“Yes, sir,” answered Athos, agitated; “so much so that I wish to see him if possible.”
“Quite possible, sir; do me the favor to accompany me and I will conduct you to headquarters.”
“Halloo, there!” cried Aramis, turning around; “what a noise behind us!”
“A body of cavaliers is coming toward us,” said Chatillon.
“I recognize the coadjutor by his Frondist hat.”
“And I the Duc de Beaufort by his white plume of ostrich feathers.”
“They are coming, full gallop; the prince is with them—ah! he is leaving them!”
“They are beating the rappel!” cried Chatillon; “we must discover what is going on.”
In fact, they saw the soldiers running to their arms; the trumpets sounded; the drums beat; the Duc de Beaufort drew his sword. On his side the prince sounded a rappel and all the officers of the royalist army, mingling momentarily with the Parisian troops, ran to him.
“Gentlemen,” cried Chatillon, “the truce is broken, that is evident; they are going to fight; go, then, into Charenton, for I shall begin in a short time—there’s a signal from the prince!”