With every three shots at least two men fell; but the march of those who remained was not slackened.

Arrived at the foot of the bastion, there were still more than a dozen of the enemy.  A last discharge welcomed them, but did not stop them; they jumped into the ditch, and prepared to scale the breach.

“Now, my friends,” said Athos, “finish them at a blow.  To the wall; to the wall!”

And the four friends, seconded by Grimaud, pushed with the barrels of their muskets an enormous sheet of the wall, which bent as if pushed by the wind, and detaching itself from its base, fell with a horrible crash into the ditch.  Then a fearful crash was heard; a cloud of dust mounted toward the sky—­and all was over!

“Can we have destroyed them all, from the first to the last?” said Athos.

“My faith, it appears so!” said d’Artagnan.

“No,” cried Porthos; “there go three or four, limping away.”

In fact, three or four of these unfortunate men, covered with dirt and blood, fled along the hollow way, and at length regained the city.  These were all who were left of the little troop.

Athos looked at his watch.

“Gentlemen,” said he, “we have been here an hour, and our wager is won; but we will be fair players.  Besides, d’Artagnan has not told us his idea yet.”

And the Musketeer, with his usual coolness, reseated himself before the remains of the breakfast.

“My idea?” said d’Artagnan.

“Yes; you said you had an idea,” said Athos.

“Oh, I remember,” said d’Artagnan.  “Well, I will go to England a second time; I will go and find Buckingham.”

“You shall not do that, d’Artagnan,” said Athos, coolly.

“And why not?  Have I not been there once?”

“Yes; but at that period we were not at war.  At that period Buckingham was an ally, and not an enemy.  What you would now do amounts to treason.”

D’Artagnan perceived the force of this reasoning, and was silent.

“But,” said Porthos, “I think I have an idea, in my turn.”

“Silence for Monsieur Porthos’s idea!” said Aramis.

“I will ask leave of absence of Monsieur de Treville, on some pretext or other which you must invent; I am not very clever at pretexts.  Milady does not know me; I will get access to her without her suspecting me, and when I catch my beauty, I will strangle her.”

“Well,” replied Athos, “I am not far from approving the idea of Monsieur Porthos.”

“For shame!” said Aramis.  “Kill a woman?  No, listen to me; I have the true idea.”

“Let us see your idea, Aramis,” said Athos, who felt much deference for the young Musketeer.

“We must inform the queen.”

“Ah, my faith, yes!” said Porthos and d’Artagnan, at the same time; “we are coming nearer to it now.”

“Inform the queen!” said Athos; “and how?  Have we relations with the court?  Could we send anyone to Paris without its being known in the camp?  From here to Paris it is a hundred and forty leagues; before our letter was at Angers we should be in a dungeon.”