this fashion."

"Chastised, Monsieur!" said d'Artagnan, "the expression is strong."

"It is one that becomes a man accustomed to look his enemies in the
face."

"Ah, PARDIEU! I know full well that you don't turn your back to yours."

And the young man, delighted with his joke, went away laughing loudly.

Porthos foamed with rage, and made a movement to rush after d'Artagnan.

"Presently, presently," cried the latter, "when you haven't your cloak
on."

"At one o'clock, then, behind the Luxembourg."

"Very well, at one o'clock, then," replied d'Artagnan, turning the angle
of the street.

But neither in the street he had passed through, nor in the one which
his eager glance pervaded, could he see anyone; however slowly the
stranger had walked, he was gone on his way, or perhaps had entered some
house. D'Artagnan inquired of everyone he met with, went down to
the ferry, came up again by the Rue de Seine, and the Red Cross; but
nothing, absolutely nothing! This chase was, however, advantageous to
him in one sense, for in proportion as the perspiration broke from his
forehead, his heart began to cool.

He began to reflect upon the events that had passed; they were numerous
and inauspicious. It was scarcely eleven o'clock in the morning, and yet
this morning had already brought him into disgrace with M. de Treville,
who could not fail to think the manner in which d'Artagnan had left him
a little cavalier.

Besides this, he had drawn upon himself two good duels with two men,
each capable of killing three d'Artagnans--with two Musketeers, in
short, with two of those beings whom he esteemed so greatly that he
placed them in his mind and heart above all other men.

The outlook was sad. Sure of being killed by Athos, it may easily be
understood that the young man was not very uneasy about Porthos. As
hope, however, is the last thing extinguished in the heart of man, he
finished by hoping that he might survive, even though with terrible
wounds, in both these duels; and in case of surviving, he made the
following reprehensions upon his own conduct:

"What a madcap I was, and what a stupid fellow I am! That brave and
unfortunate Athos was wounded on that very shoulder against which I must
run head foremost, like a ram. The only thing that astonishes me is that
he did not strike me dead at once. He had good cause to do so; the pain
I gave him must have been atrocious. As to Porthos--oh, as to Porthos,
faith, that's a dr