would seize him by the horns and would bring him in.”
“So would I,” said Porthos.
“So would you!” said Mazarin, looking with astonishment at
those two men. “But the duke will not yield himself without
a furious battle.”
“Very well,” said D’Artagnan, his eyes aflame, “battle! It
is a long time since we have had a battle, eh, Porthos?”
“Battle!” cried Porthos.
“And you think you can catch him?”
“Yes, if we are better mounted than he.”
“Go then, take what guards you find here, and pursue him.”
“You command us, my lord, to do so?”
“And I sign my orders,” said Mazarin, taking a piece of
paper and writing some lines; “Monsieur du Vallon, your
barony is on the back of the Duc de Beaufort’s horse; you
have nothing to do but to overtake it. As for you, my dear
lieutenant, I promise you nothing; but if you bring him back
to me, dead or alive, you may ask all you wish.”
“To horse, Porthos!” said D’Artagnan, taking his friend by
the hand.
“Here I am,” smiled Porthos, with his sublime composure.
They descended the great staircase, taking with them all the
guards they found on their road, and crying out, “To arms!
To arms!” and immediately put spur to horse, which set off
along the Rue Saint Honore with the speed of the whirlwind.
“Well, baron, I promise you some good exercise!” said the
Gascon.
“Yes, my captain.”
As they went, the citizens, awakened, left their doors and
the street dogs followed the cavaliers, barking. At the
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corner of the Cimetiere Saint Jean, D’Artagnan upset a man;
it was too insignificant an occurrence to delay people so
eager to get on. The troop continued its course as though
their steeds had wings.
Alas! there are no unimportant events in this world and we
shall see that this apparently slight incident came near
endangering the monarchy.
25
An Adventure on the High Road.
The musketeers rode the whole length of the Faubourg Saint
Antoine and of the road to Vincennes, and soon found
themselves out of the town, then in a forest and then within
sight of a village.
The horses seemed to become more lively with each successive
step; their nostrils reddened like glowing furnaces.
D’Artagnan, freely applying his spurs, was in advance of
Porthos two feet at the most; Mousqueton followed two lengths
behind; the guards were scattered according to the varying
excellence of their respective mounts.
From the top of an eminence D’Artagnan perceived a group of
people collected on the other side of the moat, in front of
that part of the donjon which looks toward Saint Maur. He
rode on, convinced that in this direction he would gain
intelligence of the fugitive. In five minutes he had arrived
at the place, where the guards joined him, coming up one by
one.
The several members of that group were much excited. They
looked at the cord, still hanging from the loophole and
broken at about twenty feet from the ground. Their eyes
measured the height and they exchanged conjectures. On the
top of the wall sentinels went and came with a frightened
air.
A few soldiers, commanded by a sergeant, drove away idlers
from the place where the duke had mounted his horse.
D’Artagnan went straight to the sergeant.
“My officer,” said the sergeant, “it is not permitted to
stop here.”
“That prohibition is not for me,” said D’Artagnan. “Have the
fugitives been pursued?”
“Yes, my officer; unfortunately, they are well mounted.”
“How many are there?”
“Four, and a fifth whom they carried away wounded.”
“Four!” said D’Artagnan, looking at Porthos. “Do you hear,
baron? They are only four!”
A joyous smile lighted Porthos’s face.
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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
“How long a start have they?”
“Two hours and a quarter, my officer.”
“Two hours and a quarter — that is nothing; we are well
mounted, are we not, Porthos?”
Porthos breathed a sigh; he thought of what was in store for
his poor horses.
“Very good,” said D’Artagnan; “and now in what direction did
they set out?”
“That I am forbidden to tell.”