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