d, had a carbine on the bow of
the saddle.

"Here I am!" exclaimed Porthos. "Shall we wait, or shall we charge?"

"Let us charge them," answered the Gascon.

"Charge!" cried Porthos.

They spurred on their horses; the other cavaliers were only twenty steps
from them.

"For the king!" cried D'Artagnan.

"The king has no authority here!" answered a deep voice, which seemed
to proceed from a cloud, so enveloped was the cavalier in a whirlwind of
dust.

"'Tis well, we will see if the king's name is not a passport
everywhere," replied the Gascon.

"See!" answered the voice.

Two shots were fired at once, one by D'Artagnan, the other by the
adversary of Porthos. D'Artagnan's ball took off his enemy's hat. The
ball fired by Porthos's foe went through the throat of his horse, which
fell, groaning.

"For the last time, where are you going?"

"To the devil!" answered D'Artagnan.

"Good! you may be easy, then--you'll get there."

D'Artagnan then saw a musket-barrel leveled at him; he had no time to
draw from his holsters. He recalled a bit of advice which Athos had once
given him, and made his horse rear.

The ball struck the animal full in front. D'Artagnan felt his horse
giving way under him and with his wonderful agility threw himself to one
side.

"Ah! this," cried the voice, the tone of which was at once polished
and jeering, "this is nothing but a butchery of horses and not a combat
between men. To the sword, sir! the sword!"

And he jumped off his horse.

"To the swords! be it so!" replied D'Artagnan; "that is exactly what I
want."

D'Artagnan, in two steps, was engaged with the foe, whom, according to
custom, he attacked impetuously, but he met this time with a skill and a
strength of arm that gave him pause. Twice he was obliged to step
back; his opponent stirred not one inch. D'Artagnan returned and again
attacked him.

Twice or thrice thrusts were attempted on both sides, without effect;
sparks were emitted from the swords like water spouting forth.

At last D'Artagnan thought it was time to try one of his favorite feints
in fencing. He brought it to bear, skillfully executed it with the
rapidity of lightning, and struck the blow with a force which he fancied
would prove irresistible.

The blow was parried.

"'Sdeath!" he cried, with his Gascon accent.

At this exclamation his adversary bounded back and, bending his bare
head, tried to distinguish in the gloom the features of the lieuten