they met a third troop; this latter party was composed of ill-looking fellows, who resembled bandits more than anything else; they were the men of the beggar of Saint Eustache.
“Attention, Porthos!” cried D’Artagnan.
Porthos placed his hand on the pistols.
“What is it?” asked Mazarin.
“My lord, I think we are in bad company.”
A man advanced to the door with a kind of scythe in his hand. “Qui vive?” he asked.
“Eh, rascal!” said D’Artagnan, “do you not recognize his highness the prince’s carriage?”
“Prince or not,” said the man, “open.