Bonacieux.

What he had clearly gained in all this was the diamond, worth five
or six thousand livres, which he wore on his finger; and even this
diamond--supposing that d'Artagnan, in his projects of ambition,
wished to keep it, to make it someday a pledge for the gratitude of the
queen--had not in the meanwhile, since he could not part with it, more
value than the gravel he trod under his feet.

We say the gravel he trod under his feet, for d'Artagnan made these
reflections while walking solitarily along a pretty little road which
led from the camp to the village of Angoutin. Now, these reflections had
led him further than he intended, and the day was beginning to decline
when, by the last ray of the setting sun, he thought he saw the barrel
of a musket glitter from behind a hedge.

D'Artagnan had a quick eye and a prompt understanding. He comprehended
that the musket had not come there of itself, and that he who bore it
had not concealed himself behind a hedge with any friendly intentions.
He determined, therefore, to direct his course as clear from it as he
could when, on the opposite side of the road, from behind a rock, he
perceived the extremity of another musket.

This was evidently an ambuscade.

The young man cast a glance at the first musket and saw, with a certain
degree of inquietude, that it was leveled in his direction; but as soon
as he perceived that the orifice of the barrel was motionless, he threw
himself upon the ground. At the same instant the gun was fired, and he
heard the whistling of a ball pass over his head.

No time was to be lost. D'Artagnan sprang up with a bound, and at the
same instant the ball from the other musket tore up the gravel on the
very spot on the road where he had thrown himself with his face to the
ground.

D'Artagnan was not one of those foolhardy men who seek a ridiculous
death in order that it may be said of them that they did not retreat a
single step. Besides, courage was out of the question here; d'Artagnan
had fallen into an ambush.

"If there is a third shot," said he to himself, "I am a lost man."

He immediately, therefore, took to his heels and ran toward the camp,
with the swiftness of the young men of his country, so renowned for
their agility; but whatever might be his speed, the first who fired,
having had time to reload, fired a second shot, and this time so well
aimed that it struck his hat, and carried it ten paces from him.

As he, however, had