Chapter 45 - Page 2

name was not Antoine, but Gaspard,- the same as M. de Coligny’s. Always on horseback, he had never known what lassitude was. One evening, as he rose from table, his legs failed him.”

“He had supped heartily, perhaps,” said Aramis; “and that was why he staggered.”

“Bah! A friend of M. de Bassompierre? nonsense! No, no; he was astonished at feeling this lassitude, and said to my mother, who laughed at him, ‘Would not one believe I was going to meet with a wild boar, as the late M. du Vallon, my father, did?’”

“Well?” said Aramis.

“Well, braving this weakness, my father insisted upon going down into the garden, instead of going to bed. His foot slipped on the first stair; the staircase was steep; my father fell against a stone angle, in which an iron hinge was fixed. The hinge opened his temple, and he lay dead upon the spot.”

Aramis raised his eyes to his friend. “These are two extraordinary circumstances,” said he; “let us not infer that there may succeed a third. It is not becoming in a man of your strength to be superstitious, my brave Porthos. Besides, when were your legs seen to fail? Never have you been so firm, so superb; why, you could carry a house on your shoulders!”

“At this moment,” said Porthos, “I feel myself pretty active; but at times I vacillate, I sink; and lately this phenomenon, as you call it, has occurred four times. I will not say that this frightens me, but it annoys me. Life is an agreeable thing. I have money, I have fine estates, I have horses that I love; I have also friends I love,- d’Artagnan, Athos, Raoul, and you.”

The admirable Porthos did not even take the trouble to conceal from Aramis the rank he gave him in his friendship. Aramis pressed his hand. “We will still live many years,” said he, “to preserve in the world specimens of rare men. Trust yourself to me, my friend; we have no reply from d’Artagnan,- that is a good sign. He must have given orders to get the vessels together and clear the seas. On my part, I have just issued directions that a boat should be rolled upon rollers to the mouth of the great cavern of Locmaria, which you know, where we have so often lain in wait for foxes.”

“Yes, and which terminates at the little creek by a trench which we discovered the day that splendid fox escaped that way.”

“Precisely. In case of misfortune, a boat is to be concealed for us in that cavern; indeed, it must be there by this time. We will wait for a favorable moment; and during the night, to sea!”

“That is a good idea; what shall we gain by it?”

“We shall gain by it that nobody knows that grotto, or rather its issue, except ourselves and two or three