y tongue slipped."

"What then, sir--why, the other men became as enraged as so many lions:
they fired more than a hundred shots at the house; but the Frenchman was
sheltered by the wall, and every time they tried to enter by the door
they met with a shot from his lackey, whose aim is deadly, d'ye see?
Every time they threatened the window, they met with a pistol-shot from
the master. Look and count--there are seven men down.

"Ah! my brave countryman," cried D'Artagnan, "wait a little, wait a
little. I will be with you, and we will settle with this rabble."

"One instant, sir," said Monk, "wait."

"Long?"

"No; only the time to ask a question." Then, turning towards the
sailor, "My friend," asked he with an emotion which, in spite of all his
self-command, he could not conceal, "whose soldiers are these, pray tell
me?"

"Whose should they be but that madman, Monk's?"

"There has been no battle, then?"

"A battle, ah, yes! for what purpose? Lambert's army is melting away
like snow in April. All come to Monk, officers and soldiers. In a week
Lambert won't have fifty men left."

The fisherman was interrupted by a fresh discharge directed against the
house, and by another pistol-shot which replied to the discharge and
struck down the most daring of the aggressors. The rage of the soldiers
was at its height. The fire still continued to increase, and a crest
of flame and smoke whirled and spread over the roof of the house.
D'Artagnan could no longer contain himself. "Mordioux!" said he to Monk,
glancing at him sideways: "you are a general, and allow your men to burn
houses and assassinate people, while you look on and warm your hands at
the blaze of the conflagration? Mordioux! you are not a man."

"Patience, sir, patience!" said Monk, smiling.

"Patience! yes, until that brave gentleman is roasted--is that what you
mean?" And D'Artagnan rushed forward.

"Remain where you are, sir," said Monk, in a tone of command. And he
advanced towards the house, just as an officer had approached it, saying
to the besieged: "The house is burning, you will be roasted within an
hour! There is still time--come, tell us what you know of General Monk,
and we will spare your life. Reply, or by Saint Patrick----"

The besieged made no answer; he was no doubt reloading his pistol.

"A reinforcement is expected," continued the officer; "in a quarter of
an hour there will be a hundred men around your house."

"I reply to you," said