"We live by hope," said Porthos, enlivened by the warmth of his companion.
All at once a cry resounded in their ears: "To arms! to arms!"
This cry, repeated by a hundred throats, piercing the chamber where the two friends were conversing, carried surprise to one, and uneasiness to the other. Aramis opened the window; he saw a crowd of people running with flambeaux. Women were seeking places of safety, the armed population were hastening to their posts.
"The fleet! the fleet!" cried a soldier, who recognized Aramis.
"The fleet?" repeated the latter.
"Within half cannon-shot," continued the soldier.
"To arms!" cried Aramis.
"To arms!" repeated Porthos, formidably. And both rushed forth towards the mole to place themselves within the shelter of the batteries. Boats, laden with soldiers, were seen approaching; and in three directions, for the purpose of landing at three points at once.
"What must be done?" said an officer of the guard.
"Stop them; and if they persist, fire!" said Aramis.
Five minutes later, the cannonade commenced. These were the shots that D"Artagnan had heard as he landed in France. But the boats were too near the mole to allow the cannon to aim correctly. They landed, and the combat commenced hand to hand.
"What"s the matter, Porthos?" said Aramis to his friend.
"Nothing! nothing!--only my legs; it is really incomprehensible!--they will be better when we charge." In fact, Porthos and Aramis did charge with such vigor, and so thoroughly animated their men, that the royalists re-embarked precipitately, without gaining anything but the wounds they carried away.
"Eh! but Porthos," cried Aramis, "we must have a prisoner, quick!
quick!" Porthos bent over the stair of the mole, and seized by the nape of the neck one of the officers of the royal army who was waiting to embark till all his people should be in the boat. The arm of the giant lifted up his prey, which served him as a buckler, and he recovered himself without a shot being fired at him.
"Here is a prisoner for you," said Porthos coolly to Aramis.
"Well!" cried the latter, laughing, "did you not calumniate your legs?"
"It was not with my legs I captured him," said Porthos, "it was with my arms!"
Chapter XLVI. The Son of Biscarrat.
The Bretons of the Isle were very proud of this victory; Aramis did not encourage them in the feeling.
"What will happen," said he to Porthos, when everybody was gone home, "will be that the anger of the king will be roused by the account of the resistance; and that these brave people will be decimated or shot when they are taken, which cannot fail to take place."
"From which it results, then," said Porthos, "that what we have done is of not the slightest use."
"For the moment it may be," replied the bishop, "for we have a prisoner from whom we shall learn what our enemies are preparing to do."
"Yes, let us interrogate the prisoner," said Porthos, "and the means of making him speak are very simple. We are going to supper; we will invite him to join us; as he drinks he will talk."
This was done. The officer was at first rather uneasy, but became rea.s.sured on seeing what sort of men he had to deal with. He gave, without having any fear of compromising himself, all the details imaginable of the resignation and departure of D"Artagnan. He explained how, after that departure, the new leader of the expedition had ordered a surprise upon Belle-Isle. There his explanations stopped. Aramis and Porthos exchanged a glance that evinced their despair. No more dependence to be placed now on D"Artagnan"s fertile imagination--no further resource in the event of defeat. Aramis, continuing his interrogations, asked the prisoner what the leaders of the expedition contemplated doing with the leaders of Belle-Isle.
"The orders are," replied he, "to kill _during_ combat, or hang _afterwards_."
Porthos and Aramis looked at each other again, and the color mounted to their faces.
"I am too light for the gallows," replied Aramis; "people like me are not hung."
"And I am too heavy," said Porthos; "people like me break the cord."
"I am sure," said the prisoner, gallantly, "that we could have guaranteed you the exact kind of death you preferred."
"A thousand thanks!" said Aramis, seriously. Porthos bowed.
"One more cup of wine to your health," said he, drinking himself. From one subject to another the chat with the officer was prolonged. He was an intelligent gentleman, and suffered himself to be led on by the charm of Aramis"s wit and Porthos"s cordial _bonhomie_.
"Pardon me," said he, "if I address a question to you; but men who are in their sixth bottle have a clear right to forget themselves a little."
"Address it!" cried Porthos; "address it!"
"Speak," said Aramis.
"Were you not, gentlemen, both in the musketeers of the late king?"
"Yes, monsieur, and amongst the best of them, if you please," said Porthos.
"That is true; I should say even the best of all soldiers, messieurs, if I did not fear to offend the memory of my father."
"Of your father?" cried Aramis.
"Do you know what my name is?"
"_Ma foi!_ no, monsieur; but you can tell us, and--"
"I am called Georges de Biscarrat."
"Oh!" cried Porthos, in his turn. "Biscarrat! Do you remember that name, Aramis?"
"Biscarrat!" reflected the bishop. "It seems to me--"
"Try to recollect, monsieur," said the officer.
"_Pardieu!_ that won"t take me long," said Porthos. "Biscarrat--called Cardinal--one of the four who interrupted us on the day on which we formed our friendship with D"Artagnan, sword in hand."
"Precisely, gentlemen."
"The only one," cried Aramis, eagerly, "we could not scratch."
"Consequently, a capital blade?" said the prisoner.
"That"s true! most true!" exclaimed both friends together. "_Ma foi!_ Monsieur Biscarrat, we are delighted to make the acquaintance of such a brave man"s son."