“My lord,” said D’Artagnan, advancing toward the cardinal, “it seems to me that your eminence is losing precious time. It may still be possible to overtake the prisoner. France is large; the nearest frontier is sixty leagues distant.”
“And who is to pursue him?” cried Mazarin.
“I, pardieu!”
“And you would arrest him?”
“Why not?”
“You would arrest the Duc de Beaufort, armed, in the field?”
“If your eminence should order me to arrest the devil, I would seize him by the horns and would bring him in.”
“So would I,” said Porthos.
“So would you!” said Mazarin, looking with astonishment at those two men. “But the duke will not yield himself without a furious battle.”
“Very well,” said D’Artagnan, his eyes aflame, “battle! It is a long time since we have had a battle, eh, Porthos?”