“I think I have sprained my wrist,’ said Porthos.
“The devil! why, you strike like a blind or a deaf man.”
“It was necessary; my man was going to fire a pistol at me; but you — how did you get rid of yours?”
“Oh, mine,” replied D’Artagnan, “was not a man.”
“What was it then?”
“It was an apparition.”
“And — — ”
“I charmed it away.”
Without further explanation D’Artagnan took the pistols which were upon the front seat, placed them in his belt, wrapped himself in his cloak, and not wishing to enter by the same gate as that through which they had left, he took his way toward the Richelieu gate.