"O Athos," exclaimed Aramis, "you are a great man!"
Porthos nodded approval; only D'Artagnan did not seem to be convinced; and Grimaud appeared to have his doubts, for seeing they were still making for the bastion (which up to that moment he had declined to believe), he plucked his master by the coat.
"Where are we going?" he asked by a sign.
Athos pointed out the bastion.
"But," objected Grimaud, speaking always in pantomime, "we shall leave our bodies there."
Athos raised his hands and eyes to heaven. Grimaud placed his basket on the ground and sat down, shaking his head.
Athos took a pistol from his belt, looked to see if it was well primed, cocked it, and approached the barrel to Grimaud's ear. Grimaud was on his legs again, as if by magic. Athos then signed to him to take up the basket and go on.
Grimaud obeyed.
When they reached the bastion, the four friends turned round and beheld over three hundred soldiers assembled at the gate of the camp; M. De Busigny, the dragoon, the Swiss, and their silent companion forming a group apart.
Athos removed his hat, put it on the edge of his sword, and waved it in the air.