ys ready for this kind of adventure.

"Pardon me," said D'Artagnan. "Do not let us do things in a hurry. We
will arrange the matter rather better. Confess, Monsieur Mordaunt, that
you are anxious to kill some of us."

"All," replied Mordaunt.

"Then, my dear sir; I am convinced that these gentlemen return your kind
wishes and will be delighted to kill you also. Of course they will do so
as honorable gentlemen, and the best proof I can furnish is this----"

So saying, he threw his hat on the ground, pushed back his chair to the
wall and bowed to Mordaunt with true French grace.

"At your service, sir," he continued. "My sword is shorter than yours,
it's true, but, bah! I think the arm will make up for the sword."

"Halt!" cried Porthos coming forward. "I begin, and without any
rhetoric."

"Allow me, Porthos," said Aramis.

Athos did not move. He might have been taken for a statue. Even his
breathing seemed to be arrested.

"Gentlemen," said D'Artagnan, "you shall have your turn. Monsieur
Mordaunt dislikes you sufficiently not to refuse you afterward. You can
see it in his eye. So pray keep your places, like Athos, whose calmness
is entirely laudable. Besides, we will have no words about it. I have
particular business to settle with this gentleman and I shall and will
begin."

Porthos and Aramis drew back, disappointed, and drawing his sword
D'Artagnan turned to his adversary:

"Sir, I am waiting for you."

"And for my part, gentlemen, I admire you. You are disputing which shall
fight me first, but you do not consult me who am most concerned in the
matter. I hate you all, but not equally. I hope to kill all four of you,
but I am more likely to kill the first than the second, the second than
the third, and the third than the last. I claim, then, the right to
choose my opponent. If you refuse this right you may kill me, but I
shall not fight."

"It is but fair," said Porthos and Aramis, hoping he would choose one of
them.

Athos and D'Artagnan said nothing, but their silence seemed to imply
consent.

"Well, then," said Mordaunt, "I choose for my adversary the man who,
not thinking himself worthy to be called Comte de la Fere, calls himself
Athos."

Athos sprang up, but after an instant of motionless silence he said, to
the astonishment of his friends, "Monsieur Mordaunt, a duel between us
is impossible. Submit this honour to somebody else." And he sat down.

"Ah!" said Mordaunt, with a sneer, "there's