“I!” said the young man, endeavoring to collect his faculties.
“In the name of Heaven! what has happened?” exclaimed all the voices.
“You have not a drop of blood in your veins, my poor friend,” said one of them, laughing.
“Messieurs, it is serious,” said another, “he is going to faint; does any one of you happen to have any salts?” And they all laughed.
This hail of jests fell round Biscarrat’s ears like musket-balls in a melee. He recovered himself amidst a deluge of interrogations.
“What do you suppose I have seen?” asked he. “I was too hot when I entered the grotto, and I have been struck with a chill. That is all.”
“But the dogs, the dogs; have you seen them again—did you see anything of them—do you know anything about them?”
“I suppose they have got out some other way.”
“Messieurs,” said one of the young men, “there is in that which is going on, in the paleness and silence of our friend, a mystery which Biscarrat will not, or cannot reveal. Only, and this is certain, Biscarrat has seen something in the grotto. Well, for my part, I am very curious to see what it is, even if it is the devil! To the grotto! messieurs, to the grotto!”
“To the grotto!” repeated all the voices. And the echo of the cavern carried like a menace to Porthos and Aramis, “To the grotto! to the grotto!”