onist; if a conqueror, he is accused of
foul play and want of courage.

Now, we must have badly painted the character of our adventure seeker,
or our readers must have already perceived that d'Artagnan was not an
ordinary man; therefore, while repeating to himself that his death was
inevitable, he did not make up his mind to die quietly, as one less
courageous and less restrained might have done in his place. He
reflected upon the different characters of men he had to fight with, and
began to view his situation more clearly. He hoped, by means of loyal
excuses, to make a friend of Athos, whose lordly air and austere bearing
pleased him much. He flattered himself he should be able to frighten
Porthos with the adventure of the baldric, which he might, if not killed
upon the spot, relate to everybody a recital which, well managed,
would cover Porthos with ridicule. As to the astute Aramis, he did not
entertain much dread of him; and supposing he should be able to get so
far, he determined to dispatch him in good style or at least, by hitting
him in the face, as Caesar recommended his soldiers do to those of
Pompey, to damage forever the beauty of which he was so proud.

In addition to this, d'Artagnan possessed that invincible stock of
resolution which the counsels of his father had implanted in his heart:
"Endure nothing from anyone but the king, the cardinal, and Monsieur de
Treville." He flew, then, rather than walked, toward the convent of the
Carmes Dechausses, or rather Deschaux, as it was called at that period,
a sort of building without a window, surrounded by barren fields--an
accessory to the Preaux-Clercs, and which was generally employed as the
place for the duels of men who had no time to lose.

When d'Artagnan arrived in sight of the bare spot of ground which
extended along the foot of the monastery, Athos had been waiting about
five minutes, and twelve o'clock was striking. He was, then, as punctual
as the Samaritan woman, and the most rigorous casuist with regard to
duels could have nothing to say.

Athos, who still suffered grievously from his wound, though it had
been dressed anew by M. de Treville's surgeon, was seated on a post and
waiting for his adversary with hat in hand, his feather even touching
the ground.

"Monsieur," said Athos, "I have engaged two of my friends as seconds;
but these two friends are not yet come, at which I am astonished, as it
is not at all their custom."

"I have no sec