tching out his hand to
assure himself whether a chill sensation he felt on his cheek was not
really caused by a drop of rain.

"Come, come," said D'Artagnan, "more reason why we should start on our
journey. Halloo, Grimaud!"

Grimaud appeared.

"Well, Grimaud, my friend, have you seen anything?" asked the Gascon.

"Nothing!" replied Grimaud.

"Those idiots!" cried Porthos, "they have not even pursued us. Oh! if we
had been in their place!"

"Yes, they are wrong," said D'Artagnan. "I would willingly have said
two words to Mordaunt in this little desert. It is an excellent spot for
bringing down a man in proper style."

"I think, decidedly," observed Aramis, "gentlemen, that the son hasn't
his mother's energy."

"What, my good fellow!" replied Athos, "wait awhile; we have scarcely
left him two hours ago--he does not know yet in what direction we came
nor where we are. We may say that he is not equal to his mother when we
put foot in France, if we are not poisoned or killed before then."

"Meanwhile, let us dine," suggested Porthos.

"I'faith, yes," said Athos, "for I am hungry."

"Look out for the black fowls!" cried Aramis.

And the four friends, guided by Mousqueton, took up the way toward the
house, already almost restored to their former gayety; for they were
now, as Athos had said, all four once more united and of single mind.

60. Respect to Fallen Majesty.

As our fugitives approached the house, they found the ground cut up, as
if a considerable body of horsemen had preceded them. Before the door
the traces were yet more apparent; these horsemen, whoever they might
be, had halted there.

"Egad!" cried D'Artagnan, "it's quite clear that the king and his escort
have been by here."

"The devil!" said Porthos; "in that case they have eaten everything."

"Bah!" said D'Artagnan, "they will have left a chicken, at least." He
dismounted and knocked on the door. There was no response.

He pushed open the door and found the first room empty and deserted.

"Well?" cried Porthos.

"I can see nobody," said D'Artagnan. "Aha!"

"What?"

"Blood!"

At this word the three friends leaped from their horses and entered.
D'Artagnan had already opened the door of the second room, and from
the expression of his face it was clear that he there beheld some
extraordinary object.

The three friends drew near and discovered a young man stretched on the
ground, bathed in a pool of blood. It was evident