“For the last time, where are you going?”
“To the devil!” answered D’Artagnan.
“Good! you may be easy, then—you’ll get there.”
D’Artagnan then saw a musket-barrel leveled at him; he had no time to draw from his holsters. He recalled a bit of advice which Athos had once given him, and made his horse rear.
The ball struck the animal full in front. D’Artagnan felt his horse giving way under him and with his wonderful agility threw himself to one side.
“Ah! this,” cried the voice, the tone of which was at once polished and jeering, “this is nothing but a butchery of horses and not a combat between men. To the sword, sir! the sword!”
And he jumped off his horse.
“To the swords! be it so!” replied D’Artagnan; “that is exactly what I want.”
D’Artagnan, in two steps, was engaged with the foe, whom, according to custom, he attacked impetuously, but he met this time with a skill and a strength of arm that gave him pause. Twice he was obliged to step back; his opponent stirred not one inch. D’Artagnan returned and again attacked him.
Twice or thrice thrusts were attempted on both sides, without effect; sparks were emitted from the swords like water spouting forth.