esis.

"Well!" said another; "if he has seen him, he need not be selfish: he
may as well let us have a look at him in our turns."

"Messieurs! messieurs! I beseech you," urged Biscarrat.

"Nonsense!--Let us pass!"

"Messieurs, I implore you not to enter!"

"Why, you went in yourself."

Then one of the officers who--of a riper age than the others--had, till
this time, remained behind, and had said nothing, advanced, "Messieurs,"
said he, with a calmness which contrasted with the animation of the
young men, "there is in this some person, or something, that is not the
devil; but which, whatever it may be, has had sufficient power to
silence our dogs. We must know who this some one is, or what this
something is."

Biscarrat made a last effort to stop his friends, but it was useless. In
vain he threw himself before the most rash; in vain he clung to the
rocks to bar the passage; the crowd of young men rushed into the cave,
in the steps of the officer who had spoken last, but who had sprung in
first, sword in hand, to face the unknown danger. Biscarrat, repulsed by
his friends, not able to accompany them, without passing in the eyes of
Porthos and Aramis for a traitor and a perjurer, with painfully
attentive ear and still supplicating hands leaned against the rough side
of a rock which he thought must be exposed to the fire of the
musketeers. As to the guards, they penetrated further and further, with
cries that grew weaker as they advanced. All at once, a discharge of
musketry, growling like thunder, exploded beneath the vault. Two or
three balls were flattened against the rock where Biscarrat was leaning.
At the same instant cries, howlings, and imprecations burst forth, and
the little troop of gentlemen reappeared--some pale, some bleeding--all
enveloped in a cloud of smoke, which the outward air seemed to draw from
the depths of the cavern. "Biscarrat! Biscarrat!" cried the fugitives,
"you knew there was an ambuscade in that cavern, and you have not warned
us! Biscarrat, you are the cause that four of us have been killed! Woe
be to you, Biscarrat!"

"You are the cause of my being wounded to death," said one of the
young men, gathering his blood in his hand, and casting it into the face
of Biscarrat. "My blood be upon your head!" And he rolled in agony at
the feet of the young man.

"But, at least, tell us who is there?" cried several furious voices.

Biscarrat remained silent. "Tell us, or die!" cried the woun