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Being a few paces in advance she whispered to the lackeys, "A thousand pistoles to each of you, if you will assist my escape; but if you deliver me up to your masters, I have near at hand avengers who will make you pay dearly for my death." Grimaud hesitated. Mousqueton trembled in all his members. Athos, who heard Milady's voice, came sharply up. Lord de Winter did the same.
"Ah!" cried Porthos; "would I were but a baron!" "Well, my friend, I am come to give you this very title which you wish for so much." Porthos gave a start that shook the room; two or three bottles fell and were broken. Mousqueton ran thither, hearing the noise. Porthos waved his hand to Mousqueton to pick up the bottles.
Then they came and boasted of their fine exploit in the cabaret of the next village, where my brother and I were drinking." "And what did you do?" said d'Artagnan. "We let them tell their story out," replied Mousqueton. "Then, as in leaving the cabaret they took different directions, my brother went and hid himself on the road of the Catholic, and I on that of the Huguenot.
"Oh, Monsieur d'Artagnan," said Mousqueton in a melancholy tone, "since monseigneur's departure all the pleasures have gone too!" "Well, my dear Mousqueton, refresh your memory." "With what day shall I begin?" "Eh, pardieux! begin with Sunday; that is the Lord's day." "Sunday, monsieur?" "Yes."
The splendor of daylight invading the room, the murmur of all present, and, more than all, the instinct of the faithful dog, drew Mousqueton from his reverie; he raised his head, recognized the old friend of his master, and, screaming with grief, he embraced his knees, watering the floor with his tears.
"It would not be too many if I had some of my servants here; but, alas! I have not got them." "Do you regret them, then?" "I regret Mousqueton; I miss Mousqueton." "What a good-hearted fellow you are, Porthos," said D'Artagnan; "but the best thing you can do is to leave your horses here, as you have left Mousqueton out yonder." "Why so?"
"They said a quarter of an hour. We still have five minutes," replied Mousqueton. "Suppose we warn the masters." "Let's wait for Grimaud." "But perhaps they have killed him." "Grimaud would have cried out." "You know he is almost dumb." "We should have heard the blow, then." "But if he doesn't return?" "Here he is."
As he made this reflection, he fancied he hard a groan in the room above him; and he thought immediately of poor Mousqueton, whom he felt it was a pleasing duty to divert from his grief. For this purpose he left the hall hastily to seek the worthy intendant, as he had not returned.
"Give it to me," said D'Artagnan, who when the gate was open deposited the key in his pocket, reckoning upon returning by that gate. The steps were already down and the door open. Mousqueton stood at the door and Porthos was inside the carriage. "Mount, my lord," said D'Artagnan to Mazarin, who sprang into the carriage without waiting for a second bidding.
"Ah! my dear monsieur," said Madame Nourrisson, enlightened by the slang, "you are an artist, you write plays, you live in the rue du Helder and are friends with Madame Anatolia; you have habits that I know all about. Come, do you want some rarity in the grand style, Carabine or Mousqueton, Malaga or Jenny Cadine?" "Malaga, Carabine! nonsense!" cried Leon de Lora. "It was we who invented them."
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