said Porthos.

"On the contrary," observed D'Artagnan, with a vexed look; "it would be
impossible."

"How so?"

"It is precisely this Monsieur Mordaunt whom we are going to join at
Boulogne and with whom we cross to England."

"Well, suppose instead of joining this Monsieur Mordaunt we were to go
and join our friends?" said Porthos, with a gesture fierce enough to
have frightened an army.

"I did think of it, but this letter has neither date nor postmark."

"True," said Porthos. And he began to wander about the room like a man
beside himself, gesticulating and half drawing his sword out of the
scabbard.

As to D'Artagnan, he remained standing like a man in consternation, with
the deepest affliction depicted on his face.

"Ah, this is not right; Athos insults us; he wishes to die alone; it is
bad, bad, bad."

Mousqueton, witnessing this despair, melted into tears in a corner of
the room.

"Come," said D'Artagnan, "all this leads to nothing. Let us go on. We
will embrace Raoul, and perhaps he will have news of Athos."

"Stop--an idea!" cried Porthos; "indeed, my dear D'Artagnan, I don't
know how you manage, but you are always full of ideas; let us go and
embrace Raoul."

"Woe to that man who should happen to contradict my master at this
moment," said Mousqueton to himself; "I wouldn't give a farthing for his
life."

They set out. On arriving at the Rue Saint Denis, the friends found a
vast concourse of people. It was the Duc de Beaufort, who was coming
from the Vendomois and whom the coadjutor was showing to the Parisians,
intoxicated with joy. With the duke's aid they already considered
themselves invincible.

The two friends turned off into a side street to avoid meeting the
prince, and so reached the Saint Denis gate.

"Is it true," said the guard to the two cavaliers, "that the Duc de
Beaufort has arrived in Paris?"

"Nothing more certain; and the best proof of it is," said D'Artagnan,
"that he has dispatched us to meet the Duc de Vendome, his father, who
is coming in his turn."

"Long live De Beaufort!" cried the guards, and they drew back
respectfully to let the two friends pass. Once across the barriers these
two knew neither fatigue nor fear. Their horses flew, and they never
ceased speaking of Athos and Aramis.

The camp had entered Saint Omer; the friends made a little detour and
went to the camp, and gave the army an exact account of the flight of
the king and queen. They found Raoul n