“Go to! It appears to me you make dull jokes, my dear,” said Porthos.
“I do not jest,” said Athos.
“Do you know,” said Porthos, “that to twist that damned Milady’s neck would be a smaller sin than to twist those of these poor devils of Huguenots, who have committed no other crime than singing in French the psalms we sing in Latin?”
“What says the abbe?” asked Athos, quietly.
“I say I am entirely of Porthos’s opinion,” replied Aramis.
“And I, too,” said d’Artagnan.
“Fortunately, she is far off,” said Porthos, “for I confess she would worry me if she were here.”
“She worries me in England as well as in France,” said Athos.
“She worries me everywhere,” said d’Artagnan.
“But when you held her in your power, why did you not drown her, strangle her, hang her?” said Porthos. “It is only the dead who do not return.”
“You think so, Porthos?” replied the Musketeer, with a sad smile which d’Artagnan alone understood.
“I have an idea,” said d’Artagnan.
“What is it?” said the Musketeers.
“To arms!” cried Grimaud.
The young men sprang up, and seized their muskets.
This time a small troop advanced, consisting of from twenty to twenty-five men; but they were not pioneers, they were soldiers of the garrison.
“Shall we return to the camp?” said Porthos. “I don’t think the sides are equal.”
“Impossible, for three reasons,” replied Athos. “The first, that we have not finished breakfast; the second, that we still have some very important things to say; and the third, that it yet wants ten minutes before the lapse of the hour.”
“Well, then,” said Aramis, “we must form a plan of battle.”
“That’s very simple,” replied Athos. “As soon as the enemy are within musket shot, we must fire upon them. If they continue to advance, we must fire again. We must fire as long as we have loaded guns. If those who remain of the troop persist in coming to the assault, we will allow the besiegers to get as far as the ditch, and then we will push down upon their heads that strip of wall which keeps its perpendicular by a miracle.”
“Bravo!” cried Porthos. “Decidedly, Athos, you were born to be a general, and the cardinal, who fancies himself a great soldier, is nothing beside you.”
“Gentlemen,” said Athos, “no divided attention, I beg; let each one pick out his man.”
“I cover mine,” said d’Artagnan.
“And I mine,” said Porthos.
“And I mine,” said Aramis.
“Fire, then,” said Athos.
The four muskets made but one report, but four men fell.
The drum immediately beat, and the little troop advanced at charging pace.
Then the shots were repeated without regularity, but always aimed with the same accuracy. Nevertheless, as if they had been aware of the numerical weakness of the friends, the Rochellais continued to advance in quick time.