"Sir," replied Mordaunt, "I have ordered the two prisoners we made this morning to be conducted to my lodging."
"Wherefore, sir? Excuse curiosity, but I wish to be enlightened on the subject."
"Because these prisoners, sir, are at my disposal and I choose to dispose of them as I like."
"Allow me -- allow me, sir," said D'Artagnan, "to observe you are in error. The prisoners belong to those who take them and not to those who only saw them taken. You might have taken Lord Winter -- who, 'tis said, was your uncle -- prisoner, but you preferred killing him; 'tis well; we, that is, Monsieur du Vallon and I, could have killed our prisoners -- we preferred taking them."
Mordaunt's very lips grew white with rage.
D'Artagnan now saw that affairs were growing worse and he beat the guard's march upon the door. At the first beat Porthos rushed out and stood on the other side of the door.
This movement was observed by Mordaunt.
"Sir!" he thus addressed D'Artagnan, "your resistance is useless; these prisoners have just been given me by my illustrious patron, Oliver Cromwell."
These words struck D'Artagnan like a thunderbolt. The blood mounted to his temples, his eyes became dim; he saw from what fountainhead the ferocious hopes of the young man arose, and he put his hand to the hilt of his sword.
As for Porthos, he looked inquiringly at D'Artagnan.
This look of Porthos's made the Gascon regret that he had summoned the brute force of his friend to aid him in an affair which seemed to require chiefly cunning.
"Violence," he said to himself, "would spoil all;
D'Artagnan, my friend, prove to this young serpent that thou art not only stronger, but more subtle than he is."
"Ah!" he said, making a low bow, "why did you not begin by saying that, Monsieur Mordaunt? What! are you sent by General Oliver Cromwell, the most illustrious captain of the age?"
"I have this instant left him," replied Mordaunt, alighting, in order to give his horse to a soldier to hold.
"Why did you not say so at once, my dear sir! all England is with Cromwell; and since you ask for my prisoners, I bend, sir, to your wishes. They are yours; take them."
Mordaunt, delighted, advanced, Porthos looking at D'Artagnan with open-mouthed astonishment. Then D'Artagnan trod on his foot and Porthos began to understand that this was merely acting.
Mordaunt put his foot on the first step of the door and, with his hat in hand, prepared to pass by the two friends, motioning to the four men to follow him.
"But, pardon," said D'Artagnan, with the most charming smile and putting his hand on the young man's shoulder, "if the illustrious General Oliver Cromwell has disposed of our prisoners in your favour, he has, of course, made that act of donation in writing."
Mordaunt stopped short.
"He has given you some little writing for me -- the least bit of paper which may show that you come in his name. Be pleased to give me that scrap of paper so that I may justify, by a pretext at least, my abandoning my countrymen.
Otherwise, you see, although I am sure that General Oliver Cromwell can intend them no harm, it would have a bad appearance."
Mordaunt recoiled; he felt the blow and discharged a terrible look at D'Artagnan, who responded by the most amiable expression that ever graced a human countenance.
"When I tell you a thing, sir," said Mordaunt, "you insult me by doubting it."
"I!" cried D'Artagnan, "I doubt what you say!" God keep me from it, my dear Monsieur Mordaunt! On the contrary, I take you to be a worthy and accomplished gentleman. And then, sir, do you wish me to speak freely to you?" continued D'Artagnan, with his frank expression.
"Speak out, sir," said Mordaunt.
"Monsieur du Vallon, yonder, is rich and has forty thousand francs yearly, so he does not care about money. I do not speak for him, but for myself."
"Well, sir? What more?"
"Well -- I -- I'm not rich. In Gascony 'tis no dishonor, sir, nobody is rich; and Henry IV., of glorious memory, who was the king of the Gascons, as His Majesty Philip IV. is the king of the Spaniards, never had a penny in his pocket."
"Go on, sir, I see what you wish to get at; and if it is simply what I think that stops you, I can obviate the difficulty."
"Ah, I knew well," said the Gascon, "that you were a man of talent. Well, here's the case, here's where the saddle hurts me, as we French say. I am an officer of fortune, nothing else; I have nothing but what my sword brings me in -- that is to say, more blows than banknotes. Now, on taking prisoners, this morning, two Frenchmen, who seemed to me of high birth -- in short, two knights of the Garter -- I said to myself, my fortune is made. I say two, because in such circumstances, Monsieur du Vallon, who is rich, always gives me his prisoners."
Mordaunt, completely deceived by the wordy civility of D'Artagnan, smiled like a man who understands perfectly the reasons given him, and said:
"I shall have the order signed directly, sir, and with it two thousand pistoles; meanwhile, let me take these men away."
"No," replied D'Artagnan; "what signifies a delay of half an hour? I am a man of order, sir; let us do things in order."
"Nevertheless," replied Mordaunt, "I could compel you; I command here."
"Ah, sir!" said D'Artagnan, "I see that although we have had the honor of traveling in your company you do not know us.
We are gentlemen; we are, both of us, able to kill you and your eight men -- we two only. For Heaven's sake don't be obstinate, for when others are obstinate I am obstinate likewise, and then I become ferocious and headstrong, and there's my friend, who is even more headstrong and ferocious than myself. Besides, we are sent here by Cardinal Mazarin, and at this moment represent both the king and the cardinal, and are, therefore, as ambassadors, able to act with impunity, a thing that General Oliver Cromwell, who is assuredly as great a politician as he is a general, is quite the man to understand. Ask him then, for the written order.
What will that cost you my dear Monsieur Mordaunt?"
