“Very good, very good,” said the voice. “En route, gentlemen.”
And the troop, grumbling angrily, disappeared in the darkness and took the road to Paris. D’Artagnan and Planchet remained for some moments still on the defensive; then, as the noise of the horsemen became more and more distant, they sheathed their swords.
“Thou seest, simpleton,” said D’Artagnan to his servant, “that they wished no harm to us.”
“But to whom, then?”
“I’faith! I neither know nor care. What I do care for now, is to make my way into the Jesuits’ convent; so to horse and let us knock at their door. Happen what will, the devil take them, they can’t eat us.”
And he mounted his horse. Planchet had just done the same when an unexpected weight fell upon the back of the horse, which sank down.
“Hey! your honor!” cried Planchet, “I’ve a man behind me.”
D’Artagnan turned around and plainly saw two human forms on Planchet’s horse.
“’Tis then the devil that pursues!” he cried; drawing his sword and preparing to attack the new foe.
“No, no, dear D’Artagnan,” said the figure, “’tis not the devil, ’tis Aramis; gallop fast, Planchet, and when you come to the end of the village turn swiftly to the left.”