uquet!"

M. Fouquet made no reply, but continued to trot on. D'Artagnan began to
run after his enemy. Successively he threw off his hat, his coat, which
embarrassed him, and then the sheath of his sword, which got between his
legs as he was running. The sword in his hand even became too heavy, and
he threw it after the sheath. The white horse began to rattle in his
throat; D'Artagnan gained upon him. From a trot the exhausted animal
sunk to a staggering walk--the foam from his mouth was mixed with blood.
D'Artagnan made a desperate effort, sprang toward Fouquet, and seized
him by the leg, saying in a broken breathless voice, "I arrest you in
the king's name! blow my brains out, if you like--we have both done our
duty."

Fouquet hurled far from him, into the river, the two pistols which
D'Artagnan might have seized, and dismounting from his horse--"I am your
prisoner, monsieur," said he; "will you take my arm, for I see you are
ready to faint."

"Thanks!" murmured D'Artagnan, who, in fact, felt the earth moving from
under his feet, and the sky melting away over his head; and he rolled
upon the sand, without breath or strength. Fouquet hastened to the brink
of the river, dipped some water in his hat, with which he bathed the
temples of the musketeer, and introduced a few drops between his lips.
D'Artagnan raised himself up, looking round with a wandering eye. He saw
Fouquet on his knees, with his wet hat in his hand, smiling upon him
with ineffable sweetness. "You are not gone, then?" cried he. "Oh,
monsieur! the true king in royalty, in heart, in soul, is not Louis of
the Louvre, or Philippe of Sainte-Marguerite; it is you, the proscribed,
the condemned!"

"I, who this day am ruined by a single error, M. d'Artagnan."

"What, in the name of Heaven! is that?"

"I should have had you for a friend! But how shall we return to Nantes?
We are a great way from it."

"That is true," said D'Artagnan, gloomy and sad.

"The white horse will recover, perhaps; he is a good horse! Mount,
Monsieur d'Artagnan; I will walk till you have rested a little."

"Poor beast! and wounded too!" said the musketeer.

"He will go, I tell you; I know him; but we can do better still, let us
both get up, and ride slowly."

"We can try," said the captain. But they had scarcely charged the animal
with this double load than he began to stagger, then, with a great
effort, walked a few minutes, then staggered again, and sank down dead
by the si