Oh! better, much, just now."

"You see, then, plainly, that everything conspires to give us quietude
and hope. D'Artagnan will sweep the sea and leave us free. No royal
fleet or descent to be dreaded. _Vive Dieu!_ Porthos, we have still
half a century of magnificent adventure before us, and if I once touch
Spanish ground, I swear to you," added the bishop with terrible energy,
"that your brevet of duke is not such a chance as it is said to be."

"We live by hope," said Porthos, enlivened by the warmth of his
companion.

All at once a cry resounded in their ears: "To arms! to arms!"

This cry, repeated by a hundred throats, piercing the chamber where the
two friends were conversing, carried surprise to one, and uneasiness to
the other. Aramis opened the window; he saw a crowd of people running
with flambeaux. Women were seeking places of safety, the armed
population were hastening to their posts.

"The fleet! the fleet!" cried a soldier, who recognized Aramis.

"The fleet?" repeated the latter.

"Within half cannon-shot," continued the soldier.

"To arms!" cried Aramis.

"To arms!" repeated Porthos, formidably. And both rushed forth towards
the mole to place themselves within the shelter of the batteries. Boats,
laden with soldiers, were seen approaching; and in three directions, for
the purpose of landing at three points at once.

"What must be done?" said an officer of the guard.

"Stop them; and if they persist, fire!" said Aramis.

Five minutes later, the cannonade commenced. These were the shots that
D'Artagnan had heard as he landed in France. But the boats were too
near the mole to allow the cannon to aim correctly. They landed, and the
combat commenced hand to hand.

"What's the matter, Porthos?" said Aramis to his friend.

"Nothing! nothing!--only my legs; it is really incomprehensible!--they
will be better when we charge." In fact, Porthos and Aramis did
charge with such vigor, and so thoroughly animated their men, that the
royalists re-embarked precipitately, without gaining anything but the
wounds they carried away.

"Eh! but Porthos," cried Aramis, "we must have a prisoner, quick!
quick!" Porthos bent over the stair of the mole, and seized by the nape
of the neck one of the officers of the royal army who was waiting to
embark till all his people should be in the boat. The arm of the giant
lifted up his prey, which served him as a buckler, and he recovered
himself without a shot being fired