"D'Art----" exclaimed Athos; but the musketeer covered his mouth with his hand.
The ranks opened. D'Artagnan held the bridle of Athos' horse, and Porthos that of Aramis, and they led their prisoners off the field.
"We are all four lost if you give the least sign you know us," said D'Artagnan.
"The king--where is the king?" Athos exclaimed anxiously.
"Ah! We have got him!"
"Yes," said Aramis; "through a base act of treachery!"
Porthos pressed his friend's hand, and answered, "Yes; all is fair in war--stratagem as well as force. Look yonder!"
The squadron, which ought to have protected the king, was advancing to meet the English regiments.
The king, who was entirely surrounded, walked alone on foot. He caught sight of Athos and Aramis, and greeted them.
"Farewell, messieurs. The day has been unfortunate, but it is not your fault, thank God! But where is my old friend Winter?"