“I yield myself prisoner,” said Aramis, giving up his sword to Porthos.

“D’Art——­” exclaimed Athos; but the musketeer covered his mouth with his hand.

The ranks opened.  D’Artagnan held the bridle of Athos’ horse, and Porthos that of Aramis, and they led their prisoners off the field.

“We are all four lost if you give the least sign you know us,” said D’Artagnan.

“The king—­where is the king?” Athos exclaimed anxiously.

“Ah!  We have got him!”

“Yes,” said Aramis; “through a base act of treachery!”

Porthos pressed his friend’s hand, and answered, “Yes; all is fair in war—­stratagem as well as force.  Look yonder!”

The squadron, which ought to have protected the king, was advancing to meet the English regiments.

The king, who was entirely surrounded, walked alone on foot.  He caught sight of Athos and Aramis, and greeted them.

“Farewell, messieurs.  The day has been unfortunate, but it is not your fault, thank God!  But where is my old friend Winter?”

“Look for him with Strafford,” said a voice.

Charles shuddered.  He saw a corpse at his feet.  It was Winter’s.

That hour messengers were sent off in every direction over England and Europe to announce that Charles Stuart was now the prisoner of Oliver Cromwell.  D’Artagnan not only accomplished the release of the prisoners, he also joined with his friends in a bold attempt to rescue Charles from his captors.

D’Artagnan at first naturally assumed they would all four return to France as quickly as possible; but Athos declared that he could not abandon the king, and still meant to save him if it were possible.

“But what can you do in a foreign land; in an enemy’s country?” said D’Artagnan.  “Did you promise the queen to storm the Tower of London?  Come, Porthos, what do you think of this business?”

“Nothing good,” said Porthos.

“Friend,” said Athos, “our minds are made up!  Ah, if we had you with us!  With you, D’Artagnan, and you, Porthos—­all four, and reunited for the first time for twenty years—­we would dare, not only England but the three kingdoms together!”

“Very well,” cried D’Artagnan furiously, “very well, since you wish it, let us leave our bones in this horrible land, where it is always cold, where the fine weather comes after a fog, and the fog after rain; in truth, whether we die here or elsewhere matters little, since we must die sooner or later.”

“But your future career, D’Artagnan?  Your ambition, Porthos?” said Athos.

“Our future, our ambition!” replied D’Artagnan bitterly.  “What do we need to think of that for, if we are to save the king?  The king saved, we shall assemble our friends together, reconquer England, and place him securely on the throne.”

“And he shall make us dukes and peers,” said Porthos joyfully at this cheerful prospect.