three bodies, which were to enter successively, keeping up
a sustained fire in all directions. No doubt, in this attack they would
lose five more, perhaps ten; but, certainly, they must end by taking the
rebels, since there was no issue; and, at any rate, two men could not
kill eighty.

"Captain," said Biscarrat, "I beg to be allowed to march at the head of
the first platoon."

"So be it," replied the captain; "you have all the honor. I make you a
present of it."

"Thanks!" replied the young man, with all the firmness of his race.

"Take your sword, then."

"I shall go as I am, captain," said Biscarrat, "for I do not go to kill,
I go to be killed."

And placing himself at the head of the first platoon, with head
uncovered and arms crossed,--"March, gentlemen," said he.

Chapter XLIX. An Homeric Song.

It is time to pass to the other camp, and to describe at once the
combatants and the field of battle. Aramis and Porthos had gone to the
grotto of Locmaria with the expectation of finding there their canoe
ready armed, as well as the three Bretons, their assistants; and they
at first hoped to make the bark pass through the little issue of the
cavern, concealing in that fashion both their labors and their flight.
The arrival of the fox and dogs obliged them to remain concealed. The
grotto extended the space of about a hundred _toises_, to that little
slope dominating a creek. Formerly a temple of the Celtic divinities,
when Belle-Isle was still called Kalonese, this grotto had beheld more
than one human sacrifice accomplished in its mystic depths. The first
entrance to the cavern was by a moderate descent, above which distorted
rocks formed a weird arcade; the interior, very uneven and dangerous
from the inequalities of the vault, was subdivided into several
compartments, which communicated with each other by means of rough and
jagged steps, fixed right and left, in uncouth natural pillars. At the
third compartment the vault was so low, the passage so narrow, that the
bark would scarcely have passed without touching the side; nevertheless,
in moments of despair, wood softens and stone grows flexible beneath the
human will. Such was the thought of Aramis, when, after having fought
the fight, he decided upon flight--a flight most dangerous, since all
the assailants were not dead; and that, admitting the possibility of
putting the bark to sea, they would have to fly in open day, before the
conquered, so interest