“The convent, your honor, is at the other end of the village; I know it well.”
“Well, then, Planchet, gallop up to it whilst I tighten my horse’s girth, and come back and tell me if there is a light in any of the Jesuits’ windows.”
In about five minutes Planchet returned.
“Sir,” he said, “there is one window of the convent lighted up.”
“Hem! If I were a ‘Frondeur,’” said D’Artagnan, “I should knock here and should be sure of a good supper. If I were a monk I should knock yonder and should have a good supper there, too; whereas, ’tis very possible that between the castle and the convent we shall sleep on hard beds, dying with hunger and thirst.”
“Yes,” added Planchet, “like the famous ass of Buridan. Shall I knock?”
“Hush!” replied D’Artagnan; “the light no longer burns in yonder window.”
“Do you hear nothing?” whispered Planchet.
“What is that noise?”
There came a sound like a whirlwind, at the same time two troops of horsemen, each composed of ten men, sallied forth from each of the lanes which encompassed the house and surrounded D’Artagnan and Planchet.