with the most despairing gestures, accosted him by crying out,
"Pray forgive me, my dear friend, I am most wretched."

"Raoul!" cried Porthos, surprised.

"You have been angry with me?" said Raoul, embracing Porthos.

"I? What for?"

"For having forgotten you. But I assure you my head seems utterly lost.
If you only knew!"

"You have killed him?"

"Who?"

"Saint-Aignan; or if that is not the case, what is the matter?"

"The matter is, that Monsieur le Comte de la Fere has by this time been
arrested."

Porthos gave a start that would have thrown down a wall.

"Arrested," he cried out; "by whom?"

"By D'Artagnan."

"It is impossible," said Porthos.

"My dear friend, it is perfectly true."

Porthos turned toward Grimaud, as if he needed a second confirmation of
the intelligence. Grimaud nodded his head. "And where have they taken
him to?"

"Probably to the Bastille."

"What makes you think that?"

"As we came along we questioned some persons, who saw the carriage pass;
and others who saw it enter the Bastille."

"Oh, oh!" muttered Porthos.

"What do you intend to do?" inquired Raoul.

"I? Nothing; only I will not have Athos remain at the Bastille."

"Do you know," said Raoul, advancing nearer to Porthos, "that the arrest
was made by order of the king?"

Porthos looked at the young man as if to say, "What does that matter to
me?" This dumb language seemed so eloquent of meaning to Raoul, that he
did not ask another question. He mounted his horse again; and Porthos,
assisted by Grimaud, had already done the same.

"Let us arrange our plan of action,"' said Raoul.

"Yes," returned Porthos, "that is the best thing we can do."

Raoul sighed deeply, and then paused suddenly.

"What is the matter?" asked Porthos; "are you faint?"

"No, only I feel how utterly helpless our position is. Can we three
pretend to go and take the Bastille?"

"Well, if D'Artagnan were only here," replied Porthos, "I don't know
about that."

Raoul could not resist a feeling of admiration at the sight of such a
perfect confidence, heroic in its simplicity. These were truly the
celebrated men who, by three or four, attacked armies and assaulted
castles! Those men who had terrified death itself, and who survived the
wrecks of an age, and were still stronger than the most robust of the
young.

"Monsieur," said he to Porthos, "you have just given me an idea; we
absolutely must see M. d'Artagnan."

"Undoubtedly."