“Attention, Porthos!” cried D’Artagnan.
Porthos placed his hand on the pistols.
“What is it?” asked Mazarin.
“My lord, I think we are in bad company.”
A man advanced to the door with a kind of scythe in his
hand. “Qui vive?” he asked.
“Eh, rascal!” said D’Artagnan, “do you not recognize his
highness the prince’s carriage?”
“Prince or not,” said the man, “open. We are here to guard
the gate, and no one whom we do not know shall pass.”
“What is to be done?” said Porthos.
“Pardieu! pass,” replied D’Artagnan.
“But how?” asked Mazarin.
“Through or over; coachman, gallop on.”
The coachman raised his whip.
“Not a step further,” said the man, who appeared to be the
captain, “or I will hamstring your horses.”
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“Peste!” said Porthos, “it would be a pity; animals which
cost me a hundred pistoles each.”
“I will pay you two hundred for them,” said Mazarin.
“Yes, but when once they are hamstrung, our necks will be
strung next.”
“If one of them comes to my side,” asked Porthos, “must I
kill him?”
“Yes, by a blow of your fist, if you can; we will not fire
but at the last extremity.”
“I can do it,” said Porthos.
“Come and open, then!” cried D’Artagnan to the man with the
scythe, taking one of the pistols up by the muzzle and
preparing to strike with the handle. And as the man
approached, D’Artagnan, in order to have more freedom for
his actions, leaned half out of the door; his eyes were
fixed upon those of the mendicant, which were lighted up by
a lantern. Without doubt he recognized D’Artagnan, for he
became deadly pale; doubtless the musketeer knew him, for
his hair stood up on his head.
“Monsieur d’Artagnan!” he cried, falling back a step; “it is
Monsieur d’Artagnan! let him pass.”
D’Artagnan was perhaps about to reply, when a blow, similar
to that of a mallet falling on the head of an ox, was heard.
The noise was caused by Porthos, who had just knocked down
his man.
D’Artagnan turned around and saw the unfortunate man upon
his back about four paces off.
“‘Sdeath!” cried he to the coachman. “Spur your horses!
whip! get on!”
The coachman bestowed a heavy blow of the whip upon his
horses; the noble animals bounded forward; then cries of men
who were knocked down were heard; then a double concussion
was felt, and two of the wheels seemed to pass over a round
and flexible body. There was a moment’s silence, then the
carriage cleared the gate.
“To Cours la Reine!” cried D’Artagnan to the coachman; then
turning to Mazarin he said, “Now, my lord, you can say five
paters and five aves, in thanks to Heaven for your
deliverance. You are safe — you are free.”
Mazarin replied only by a groan; he could not believe in
such a miracle. Five minutes later the carriage stopped,
having reached Cours la Reine.
“Is my lord pleased with his escort?” asked D’Artagnan.
“Enchanted, monsieur,” said Mazarin, venturing his head out
of one of the windows; “and now do as much for the queen.”
“It will not be so difficult,” replied D’Artagnan, springing
to the ground. “Monsieur du Vallon, I commend his eminence
to your care.”
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“Be quite at ease,” said Porthos, holding out his hand,
which D’Artagnan took and shook in his.
“Oh!” cried Porthos, as if in pain.
D’Artagnan looked with surprise at his friend.
“What is the matter, then?” he asked.
“I think I have sprained my wrist,’ said Porthos.
“The devil! why, you strike like a blind or a deaf man.”
“It was necessary; my man was going to fire a pistol at me;
but you — how did you get rid of yours?”
“Oh, mine,” replied D’Artagnan, “was not a man.”
“What was it then?”
“It was an apparition.”
“And —- ”
“I charmed it away.”
Without further explanation D’Artagnan took the pistols
which were upon the front seat, placed them in his belt,
wrapped himself in his cloak, and not wishing to enter by
the same gate as that through which they had left, he took