rightful shock seemed to restore to Porthos the strength he had
lost: he arose, himself a giant among these giants. But at the moment he
was flying between the double hedge of granite phantoms, these latter,
which were no longer supported by the corresponding links, began to roll
with a crash around this Titan, who looked as if precipitated from
heaven amid rocks which he had just been launching at it. Porthos felt
the earth beneath his feet shaken by this long rending. He extended his
vast hands to the right and left to repulse the falling rocks. A
gigantic block was held back by each of his extended hands; he bent his
head, and a third granite mass sank between his two shoulders. For an
instant the arms of Porthos had given way, but the Hercules united all
his forces, and the two walls of the prison in which he was buried fell
back slowly and gave him place. For an instant he appeared in this frame
of granite like the ancient angel of chaos, but in pushing back the
lateral rocks, he lost his point of support for the monolith which
weighed upon his strong shoulders, and the monolith, lying upon him with
all its weight, brought the giant down upon his knees. The lateral
rocks, for an instant pushed back, drew together again, and added their
weight to the primitive weight which would have been sufficient to crush
ten men. The giant fell without crying for help; he fell while answering
Aramis with words of encouragement and hope, for, thanks to the powerful
arch of his hands, for an instant, he might believe that, like
Enceladus, he should shake off the triple load. But, by degrees, Aramis
saw the block sink: the hands strung for an instant, the arms stiffened
for a last effort, gave way, the extended shoulders sank wounded and
torn, and the rock continued to lower gradually.

"Porthos! Porthos!" cried Aramis, tearing his hair. "Porthos! where are
you? Speak!"

"There, there!" murmured Porthos, with a voice growing evidently weaker,
"patience! patience!"

Scarcely had he pronounced these words, when the impulse of the fall
augmented the weight; the enormous rock sank down, pressed by the two
others which sank in from the sides, and, as it were, swallowed up
Porthos in a sepulcher of broken stones. On hearing the dying voice of
his friend, Aramis had sprung to land. Two of the Bretons followed him,
with each a lever in his hand--one being sufficient to take care of the
bark. The last rattles of the valiant struggler guid