ant.

As to D'Artagnan, afraid of some feint, he still stood on the defensive.

"Have a care," cried Porthos to his opponent; "I've still two pistols
charged."

"The more reason you should fire the first!" cried his foe.

Porthos fired; the flash threw a gleam of light over the field of
battle.

As the light shone on them a cry was heard from the other two
combatants.

"Athos!" exclaimed D'Artagnan.

"D'Artagnan!" ejaculated Athos.

Athos raised his sword; D'Artagnan lowered his.

"Aramis!" cried Athos, "don't fire!"

"Ah! ha! is it you, Aramis?" said Porthos.

And he threw away his pistol.

Aramis pushed his back into his saddle-bags and sheathed his sword.

"My son!" exclaimed Athos, extending his hand to D'Artagnan.

This was the name which he gave him in former days, in their moments of
tender intimacy.

"Athos!" cried D'Artagnan, wringing his hands. "So you defend him! And
I, who have sworn to take him dead or alive, I am dishonored--and by
you!"

"Kill me!" replied Athos, uncovering his breast, "if your honor requires
my death."

"Oh! woe is me! woe is me!" cried the lieutenant; "there's only one man
in the world who could stay my hand; by a fatality that very man bars my
way. What shall I say to the cardinal?"

"You can tell him, sir," answered a voice which was the voice of high
command in the battle-field, "that he sent against me the only two
men capable of getting the better of four men; of fighting man to man,
without discomfiture, against the Comte de la Fere and the Chevalier
d'Herblay, and of surrendering only to fifty men!

"The prince!" exclaimed at the same moment Athos and Aramis, unmasking
as they addressed the Duc de Beaufort, whilst D'Artagnan and Porthos
stepped backward.

"Fifty cavaliers!" cried the Gascon and Porthos.

"Look around you, gentlemen, if you doubt the fact," said the duke.

The two friends looked to the right, to the left; they were encompassed
by a troop of horsemen.

"Hearing the noise of the fight," resumed the duke, "I fancied you had
about twenty men with you, so I came back with those around me, tired of
always running away, and wishing to draw my sword in my own cause; but
you are only two."

"Yes, my lord; but, as you have said, two that are a match for twenty,"
said Athos.

"Come, gentlemen, your swords," said the duke.

"Our swords!" cried D'Artagnan, raising his head and regaining his
self-possession. "Never!"

"Never!" added Porthos