The Three Musketeers. Александр Дюма

am certain that in less than three days this salve would cure you; and at the end of that time, when your cure is completed, it would be a great honour for me to cross swords with you.”

      D’Artagnan uttered these words with a simplicity which did honour to his courtesy, without in the slightest degree detracting from his courage.

      “By my faith!” exclaimed Athos, “this is a proposition which much pleases me; not that I should think of accepting it; but it savours of the perfect knight, and it was thus that, in the days of Charlemagne, those brave men, whom every man of honour should make his model, spoke. Unfortunately, however, we do not live in the times of the great emperor, but in those of the cardinal; and three days hence, however well we might preserve our secret, it would be known that we were going to fight, and we should be prevented. But,” he added, with some impatience, “these seconds are laggards.”

      “If you are in haste, sir,” said d’Artagnan, with the same simplicity that had the moment before characterised his proposition to put off the duel for three days—“if you are in haste, and should wish to dispose of me at once, dispense with the seconds, I beseech you.”

      “This speech of yours pleases me still more,” said Athos, gracefully bowing to d’Artagnan, “it does not seem that of a man who lacks either head or heart. I admire men of your stamp, and, if we are spared, I shall hereafter have sincere pleasure in your acquaintance. Meantime, let us wait for these gentlemen, I pray you. I have plenty of time, and it will be more according to rule. Ah! see, here comes one of them.”

      And as he spoke, the gigantic form of Porthos was seen at the end of the Rue de Vaugirard.

      “What!” exclaimed d’Artagnan, “is M. Porthos one of your seconds!”

      “Yes, have you any objection to him?”

      “Oh, certainly not!”

      “And here is the other.”

      D’Artagnan looked in the direction indicated by Athos, and beheld Aramis.

      “What!” cried he, in a tone of yet greater astonishment, “is M. Aramis the other of your seconds?”

      “Certainly; are you not aware that one is rarely seen without the other, and that amongst the musketeers and guards, at court and in the town, we are known as Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, or the three inseparables? But as you come from Dax or Pau—”

      “From Tarbes,” said d’Artagnan.

      “You may very naturally be ignorant of all this.”

      “Really, gentlemen,” said d’Artagnan, “you are well named; and should my adventure become known, it will at least prove that like draws to like.”

      In the meantime Porthos approached, shook hands with Athos, and turning towards d’Artagnan, seemed lost in astonishment. We may mention, in passing, that he had changed his belt, and laid aside his cloak.

      “It is with this gentleman that I am about to fight,” said Athos, pointing towards d’Artagnan, and at the same time saluting him.

      “And I also am going to fight him,” replied Porthos.

      “But not till one o’clock,” interrupted d’Artagnan.

      “And I also—it is with him that I am to fight,” said Aramis, who had arrived on the ground, just after Porthos.

      “Our appointment, however, is for two o’clock,” replied d’Artagnan, with the same coolness.

      “But what are you going to fight about, Athos?” demanded Aramis.

      “Upon my faith, I do not well know, except that he hurt my shoulder.”

      “And you, Porthos?”

      “I fight because I fight,” replied Porthos colouring. Athos, whom nothing escaped, perceived a slight smile curling the lips of the Gascon.

      “We had a dispute about dress,” said d’Artagnan.

      “And you, Aramis?” demanded Athos.

      “Me? I fight on account of a theological dispute,” answered Aramis, making a sign to d’Artagnan that he wished him to conceal the true cause of their duel.

      “Really!” said Athos, who observed d’Artagnan smile again.

      “Yes, a point of St. Augustine, on which we could not agree,” said the Gascon.

      “Decidedly he is a man of spirit,” murmured Athos.

      “And now that you are all arrived, gentlemen,” said d’Artagnan, “permit me to offer my apologies.”

      A frown passed over the brow of Athos, a haughty smile glided over the lips of Porthos, and a negative sign was the reply of Aramis.

      “You do not rightly understand me, gentlemen,” said d’Artagnan, elevating his head, on which a sunbeam played, gilding its fine and manly lines. “I wish to apologise because it is improbable that I shall be able to pay my debt to all three; for M. Athos has the right to kill me first, which greatly decreases the value of your bill, M. Porthos, whilst it renders yours, M. Aramis, of scarcely the slightest value. Therefore, gentlemen, on that account alone, I again repeat my offer of apology. And now upon your guard!”

      And with the most gallant and fearless mien he drew his sword.

      His blood was fairly roused, and at that moment he would have drawn his sword against all the musketeers in the kingdom with as little hesitation as he then did against Athos, Porthos, and Aramis.

      It was a quarter past twelve, the sun was at its meridian, and the situation chosen for the encounter was exposed to its fierce heat.

      “It is very hot,” said Athos, drawing his sword, “and yet I cannot take off my doublet, for just now I perceived that my wound bled, and I fear to distress this gentleman by showing him blood which he has not drawn from me himself.”

      “True, sir,” replied d’Artagnan, “but I assure you that, whether drawn by myself or by any other person, I shall always see with regret the blood of so brave a gentleman; I will therefore follow your example, and fight in my doublet.”

      “Come,” said Porthos, “a truce to these compliments. Remember that we also await our turn.”

      “Speak for yourself only, Porthos, when you choose to be so rude,” interposed Aramis. “As for me, I consider the courtesies which have passed between these gentlemen as worthy of men of the highest honour.”

      “When you please, sir,” said Athos, placing himself on his guard.

      “I was at your service,” said d’Artagnan, crossing his sword.

      But the two rapiers had scarcely met, when a party of the cardinal’s guards, commanded by M. de Jussac, appeared at the corner of the convent.

      “The cardinal’s guards!” exclaimed Porthos and Aramis at the same moment. “Sheathe swords—gentlemen—sheathe swords!”

      But it was too late. The combatants had been seen in a position which left no doubt of their intentions.

      “Hollo!” cried Jussac, advancing towards them, and giving a signal to his men to do the same. “Hollo, musketeers! What, fighting here? And the edicts—are they forgotten, eh?”

      “You are extremely generous, gentlemen of the guards,” said Athos, in a tone of the most bitter animosity, for Jussac had been one of the aggressors on the night before last. “If we saw you fighting, I promise you that we should not prevent it; therefore let us alone, and you will enjoy the spectacle without any of the pain.”

      “Gentlemen,” answered Jussac, “it is with regret I declare that what you request is impossible. Duty must take precedence of everything else. Sheathe, therefore, if you please, and follow us.”

      “Sir,” said Aramis, parodying Jussac’s manner, “if it depended upon ourselves,