D'Artagnan and Porthos as his envoys
to Oliver Cromwell.

"Monsieur D'Artagnan," said the cardinal, "do you wish to become a
captain?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Your friend wishes to be made a baron?"

"At this very moment, my lord, he's dreaming that he is one."

"Then," said Mazarin, "take this dispatch, carry it to England, and when
you get to London, tear off the outer envelope."

"And on our return, may we, my friend and I, rely on getting our
promotion--he his barony, I my captaincy?"

"On the honour of Mazarin, yes."

"I would rather have another sort of oath than that," said D'Artagnan to
himself as he went out.

Just as they were leaving Paris, a letter came from Athos, who had
already gone.

"Dear D'Artagnan, dear Porthos,--My friends, perhaps this is the last
time you will hear from me. I entrust certain papers which are at
Bragelonne to your keeping; if in three months you do not hear of me,
take possession of them. May God and the remembrance of our friendship
support you always.--Your devoted friend, Athos."

_III.--In England_

Athos and Aramis were with Charles I. at Newcastle. The king had been
sold by the Scotch to the English Parliament, and on the approach of
Cromwell's army the king's troops refused to fight. Only fifteen men
stood round the king when Cromwell's cavalry came charging down. Lord de
Winter was shot dead by his own nephew, who was in Cromwell's army.

"Come, Aramis, now for the honour of France," said Athos, and the two
Englishmen who were nearest to them fell mortally wounded.

At the same instant a tremendous shout filled the air, and thirty swords
flashed before them. Suddenly a man sprang out of the English ranks,
fell upon Athos, wound his muscular arms round him, and tearing his
sword from him, said in his ear, "Silence! Yield--you yield to me, don't
you?"

A giant from the English ranks at the same moment seized Aramis by the
wrists, who struggled in vain to get free.

"I yield myself prisoner," said Aramis, giving up his sword to Porthos.

"D'Art----" exclaimed Athos; but the musketeer covered his mouth with
his hand.

The ranks opened. D'Artagnan held the bridle of Athos' horse, and
Porthos that of Aramis, and they led their prisoners off the field.

"We are all four lost if you give the least sign you know us," said
D'Artagnan.

"The king--where is the king?" Athos exclaimed anxiously.

"Ah! We have got him!"

"Yes," said Aramis; "through a base ac