“I don’t care to camp on the Place Royale with all these people,” he said. “Shall we go forward? We shall see better what is going on.”
“And then Monsieur de Chatillon will not come to the Place Royale to look for you. Come, then, my friend, we will go forward.”
“Haven’t you something to say to Monsieur de Flamarens on your own account?”
“My friend,” said Athos, “I have made a resolution never to draw my sword save when it is absolutely necessary.”
“And how long ago was that?”
“When I last drew my poniard.”
“Ah! Good! another souvenir of Monsieur Mordaunt. Well, my friend, nothing now is lacking except that you should feel remorse for having killed that fellow.”
“Hush!” said Athos, putting a finger on his lips, with the sad smile peculiar to him; “let us talk no more of Mordaunt—it will bring bad luck.” And Athos set forward toward Charenton, followed closely by Aramis.
Chapter LXXVIII.
The Battle of Charenton.
As Athos and Aramis proceeded, and passed different companies on the road, they became aware that they were arriving near the field of battle.