a boat, and away for France — where — ”

“My dear friend,” said Aramis, smiling with a strong shade of sadness, “do not let us reason like children; let us be men in council and in execution. — But, hark! I hear a hail for landing at the port. Attention, Porthos, serious attention!”

“It is D’Artagnan, no doubt,” said Porthos, in a voice of thunder, approaching the parapet.

“Yes, it is I,” replied the captain of the musketeers, running lightly up the steps of the mole, and gaining rapidly the little esplanade on which his two friends waited for him.

As soon as he came towards them, Porthos and Aramis observed an officer who followed