But Athos heeded not his advice.  Mounting on the breach, with his musket in one hand and his hat in the other, he said, bowing courteously and addressing the soldiers and the pioneers, who, astonished at this apparition, stopped fifty paces from the bastion:  “Gentlemen, a few friends and myself are about to breakfast in this bastion.  Now, you know nothing is more disagreeable than being disturbed when one is at breakfast.  We request you, then, if you really have business here, to wait till we have finished or repast, or to come again a short time hence, unless; unless, which would be far better, you form the salutary resolution to quit the side of the rebels, and come and drink with us to the health of the King of France.”

“Take care, Athos!” cried d’Artagnan; “don’t you see they are aiming?”

“Yes, yes,” said Athos; “but they are only civilians—­very bad marksmen, who will be sure not to hit me.”

In fact, at the same instant four shots were fired, and the balls were flattened against the wall around Athos, but not one touched him.

Four shots replied to them almost instantaneously, but much better aimed than those of the aggressors; three soldiers fell dead, and one of the pioneers was wounded.

“Grimaud,” said Athos, still on the breach, “another musket!”

Grimaud immediately obeyed.  On their part, the three friends had reloaded their arms; a second discharge followed the first.  The brigadier and two pioneers fell dead; the rest of the troop took to flight.

“Now, gentlemen, a sortie!” cried Athos.

And the four friends rushed out of the fort, gained the field of battle, picked up the four muskets of the privates and the half-pike of the brigadier, and convinced that the fugitives would not stop till they reached the city, turned again toward the bastion, bearing with them the trophies of their victory.

“Reload the muskets, Grimaud,” said Athos, “and we, gentlemen, will go on with our breakfast, and resume our conversation.  Where were we?”

“I recollect you were saying,” said d’Artagnan, “that after having demanded my head of the cardinal, Milady had quit the shores of France.  Whither goes she?” added he, strongly interested in the route Milady followed.

“She goes into England,” said Athos.

“With what view?”

“With the view of assassinating, or causing to be assassinated, the Duke of Buckingham.”

D’Artagnan uttered an exclamation of surprise and indignation.

“But this is infamous!” cried he.

“As to that,” said Athos, “I beg you to believe that I care very little about it.  Now you have done, Grimaud, take our brigadier’s half-pike, tie a napkin to it, and plant it on top of our bastion, that these rebels of Rochellais may see that they have to deal with brave and loyal soldiers of the king.”

Grimaud obeyed without replying.  An instant afterward, the white flag was floating over the heads of the four friends.  A thunder of applause saluted its appearance; half the camp was at the barrier.