“There are two, and they have already killed ten of our men.”
“What sort of people are they—giants?”
“Worse than that. Do you remember the history of the Bastion Saint-Gervais, captain?”
“Yes; where four musketeers held out against an army.”
“Well, these are two of those same musketeers.”
“And their names?”
“At that period they were called Porthos and Aramis. Now they are styled M. d’Herblay and M. du Vallon.”
“And what interest have they in all this?”
“It is they who were holding Bell-Isle for M. Fouquet.”
A murmur ran through the ranks of the soldiers on hearing the two words “Porthos and Aramis.” “The musketeers! the musketeers!” repeated they. And among all these brave men, the idea that they were going to have a struggle against two of the oldest glories of the French army, made a shiver, half enthusiasm, two-thirds terror, run through them. In fact, those four names—D’Artagnan, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis—were venerated among all who wore a sword; as, in antiquity, the names of Hercules, Theseus, Castor, and Pollux were venerated.