order me to arrest the devil, I would seize him
by the horns and would bring him in."

"So would I," said Porthos.

"So would you!" said Mazarin, looking with astonishment at those two
men. "But the duke will not yield himself without a furious battle."

"Very well," said D'Artagnan, his eyes aflame, "battle! It is a long
time since we have had a battle, eh, Porthos?"

"Battle!" cried Porthos.

"And you think you can catch him?"

"Yes, if we are better mounted than he."

"Go then, take what guards you find here, and pursue him."

"You command us, my lord, to do so?"

"And I sign my orders," said Mazarin, taking a piece of paper and
writing some lines; "Monsieur du Vallon, your barony is on the back of
the Duc de Beaufort's horse; you have nothing to do but to overtake it.
As for you, my dear lieutenant, I promise you nothing; but if you bring
him back to me, dead or alive, you may ask all you wish."

"To horse, Porthos!" said D'Artagnan, taking his friend by the hand.

"Here I am," smiled Porthos, with his sublime composure.

They descended the great staircase, taking with them all the guards they
found on their road, and crying out, "To arms! To arms!" and immediately
put spur to horse, which set off along the Rue Saint Honore with the
speed of the whirlwind.

"Well, baron, I promise you some good exercise!" said the Gascon.

"Yes, my captain."

As they went, the citizens, awakened, left their doors and the street
dogs followed the cavaliers, barking. At the corner of the Cimetiere
Saint Jean, D'Artagnan upset a man; it was too insignificant an
occurrence to delay people so eager to get on. The troop continued its
course as though their steeds had wings.

Alas! there are no unimportant events in this world and we shall see
that this apparently slight incident came near endangering the monarchy.

25. An Adventure on the High Road.

The musketeers rode the whole length of the Faubourg Saint Antoine and
of the road to Vincennes, and soon found themselves out of the town,
then in a forest and then within sight of a village.

The horses seemed to become more lively with each successive step; their
nostrils reddened like glowing furnaces. D'Artagnan, freely applying
his spurs, was in advance of Porthos two feet at the most; Mousqueton
followed two lengths behind; the guards were scattered according to the
varying excellence of their respective mounts.

From the top of an eminence D'Artagnan