"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 toward the mole, to place themselves within the shelter of the batteries. Boats, laden with soldiers, were seen approaching; they took 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 after, 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; they so thoroughly animated their men, that the royalists reembarked 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, as he recovered himself, without a shot being fired at him.