“Stop a bit,” said the dragoon, placing his saber like a spit upon the two large iron dogs which held the firebrands in the chimney, “stop a bit, I am in it. You cursed host! a dripping pan immediately, that I may not lose a drop of the fat of this estimable bird.”
“You was right,” said the Swiss; “goose grease is kood with basdry.”
“There!” said the dragoon. “Now for the wager! We listen, Monsieur Athos.”
“Yes, the wager!” said the light-horseman.
“Well, Monsieur de Busigny, I will bet you,” said Athos, “that my three companions, Messieurs Porthos, Aramis, and D’Artagnan, and myself, will go and breakfast in the bastion St. Gervais, and we will remain there an hour, by the watch, whatever the enemy may do to dislodge us.”
Porthos and Aramis looked at each other; they began to comprehend.
“But,” said D’Artagnan, in the ear of Athos, “you are going to get us all killed without mercy.”
“We are much more likely to be killed,” said Athos, “if we do not go.”
“My faith, gentlemen,” said Porthos, turning round upon his chair and twisting his mustache, “that’s a fair bet, I hope.”
“I take it,” said M. de Busigny; “so let us fix the stake.”