"Probably."
"Unless it is the English coming."
"By the Loire? That would have an ill look. Porthos: for they must have come through Paris!"
"You are right: they are re-enforcements, decidedly, or provisions."
Aramis leaned his head upon his hands and made no reply. Then, all at once—"Porthos," said he, "have the alarm sounded."
"The alarm! do you think of such a thing?"
"Yes; and let the cannoniers mount to their batteries, let the artillerymen be at their pieces, and be particularly watchful of the coast batteries." Porthos opened his eyes to their widest extent. He looked attentively at his friend, to convince himself he was in his proper senses.
"I will do it, my dear Porthos," continued Aramis, in his most bland tone; "I will go and have the orders executed myself, if you do not go, my friend."
"Well! I will go instantly!" said Porthos, who went to execute the orders, casting all the while looks behind him, to see if the bishop of Vannes were not deceived; and if, on returning to more rational ideas, he would not recall him. The alarm was sounded, the trumpets brayed and drums rolled: the great bell of the belfry was put in motion. The dikes and moles were quickly filled with the curious and soldiers; the matches sparkled in the hands of the artillerymen, placed behind the large cannon bedded in their stone carriages. When every man was at his post, when all the preparations for the defense were made; "Permit, me, Aramis, to try to comprehend," whispered Porthos, timidly, in Aramis' ear.
"My dear friend, you will comprehend but too soon," murmured M. d'Herblay, in reply to this question of his lieutenant.