to his escort and
started.

"This way, gentlemen, this way!" he cried, directing his course toward
the gate that had been pointed out.

But, now that the duke had escaped, the concierge had seen fit to fasten
the gate with a double lock. It was necessary to compel him to open it,
as the sergeant had been compelled to speak, and this took another ten
minutes. This last obstacle having been overcome, the troop pursued
their course with their accustomed ardor; but some of the horses could
no longer sustain this pace; three of them stopped after an hour's
gallop, and one fell down.

D'Artagnan, who never turned his head, did not perceive it. Porthos told
him of it in his calm manner.

"If only we two arrive," said D'Artagnan, "it will be enough, since the
duke's troop are only four in number."

"That is true," said Porthos

And he spurred his courser on.

At the end of another two hours the horses had gone twelve leagues
without stopping; their legs began to tremble, and the foam they shed
whitened the doublets of their masters.

"Let us rest here an instant to give these poor creatures breathing
time," said Porthos.

"Let us rather kill them! yes, kill them!" cried D'Artagnan; "I see
fresh tracks; 'tis not a quarter of an hour since they passed this
place."

In fact, the road was trodden by horses' feet, visible even in the
approaching gloom of evening.

They set out; after a run of two leagues, Mousqueton's horse sank.

"Gracious me!" said Porthos, "there's Phoebus ruined."

"The cardinal will pay you a hundred pistoles."

"I'm above that."

"Let us set out again, at full gallop."

"Yes, if we can."

But at last the lieutenant's horse refused to go on; he could not
breathe; one last spur, instead of making him advance, made him fall.

"The devil!" exclaimed Porthos; "there's Vulcan foundered."

"Zounds!" cried D'Artagnan, "then we must stop! Give me your horse,
Porthos. What the devil are you doing?"

"By Jove, I am falling, or rather, Bayard is falling," answered Porthos.

All three then cried: "All's over."

"Hush!" said D'Artagnan.

"What is it?"

"I hear a horse."

"It belongs to one of our companions, who is overtaking us."

"No," said D'Artagnan, "it is in advance."

"That is another thing," said Porthos; and he listened toward the
quarter indicated by D'Artagnan.

"Monsieur," said Mousqueton, who, abandoning his horse on the high road,
had come on foot to rejoin his master, "P