othing, although he was evidently severely
hurt, for he remained motionless upon the spot on which he had fallen.
One of the three horsemen slid down into the moat, fastened the noose
of a rope under the arms of Grimaud, and his two companions, who held
the other end, pulled him up.

"Come down, Monseigneur," cried the cavaliers; "the fall is only about
fifteen feet, and the grass is soft."

The duke was already descending. His task was difficult; for the stick
was no longer there to sustain him, and he was obliged to lower
himself along the slender rope from a height of fifty feet by sheer
force of wrist. But his activity, strength, and coolness came to his
aid; in less than five minutes he was at the end of the cord. He then
let go his hold, and fell upon his feet without injury. Climbing out
of the moat, he found himself in the company of Count Rochefort, and
of two other gentlemen with whom he was unacquainted. Grimaud, whose
senses had left him, was fastened upon a horse.

"Gentlemen," said the duke, "I will thank you by and by; just now we
have not an instant to lose. Forward then, and let who loves me
follow."

And springing upon his horse, he set off at full gallop, breathing as
if a load were removed from his breast, and exclaiming in accents of
inexpressible joy--

"Free! Free! Free!"

The two cavaliers who accompany the Duke and the Count de Rochefort,
are Athos and Aramis. D'Artagnan and Porthos are sent in pursuit of
the cardinal, and in the obscurity by night the four friends, who have
so often fought side by side, find themselves at sword's point with
each other. Fortunately a recognition ensues before any harm is done.
A strong party of the Duke of Beaufort's adherents comes up, and
D'Artagan and Porthos are taken prisoners, but immediately set at
liberty by the duke.

The readers of the _Three Mousquetaires_ will not have forgotten a
certain Lady de Winter, having a _fleur-de-lis_ branded on her
shoulder, who plays an important part in that romance, and who, after
committing innumerable crimes, at last meets her death at the hands of
a public executioner, but without form of trial. This latter, indeed,
might be considered almost superfluous, so numerous and notorious were
her offences; but nevertheless, D'Artagnan and his three friends, by
whose order and in whose presence the execution took place, sometimes
feel pangs of remorse for the deed, which none of the many lives they
have taken in fa