the brave imagination of D'Artagnan,
consequently, no more resources 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 the combat, and hang
afterward."

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 hanged."

"And I am too heavy," said Porthos; "people like me break the cord."

"I am sure," said the prisoner, gallantly, "that we could have procured
you what sort 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 away by the
charm of Aramis' wit and Porthos' 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!" said Porthos; "address it!"

"Speak," said Aramis.

"Were you not, gentlemen, both in the musketeers of the late king?"

"Yes, monsieur, and of 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 the day on which we formed
our friendship with D'Artagnan, sword in hand."

"Precisely, gentlemen."

"The only one," cried Aramis, eagerly, "we did not wound."

"Consequently, a good blade," said the prisoner.

"That's true! very true!" exclaimed both the friends together. "Ma foi!
Monsieur Biscarrat, we are delighted to make the acquaintance of such a
brave man's son."

Biscarrat pressed the hands held out to him by the two ancient
musketeers. Aramis looked at Porthos as much as to say:

"Here