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