“Alas, they have taken everything; there isn’t a morsel of bread in the house.”
“You hear, D’Artagnan?” said Athos; “we shall have to look elsewhere for our dinner.”
“It is all one to me now,” said D’Artagnan; “I am no longer hungry.”
“Faith! neither am I,” said Porthos.
They carried the man to his bed and called Grimaud to dress the wound. In the service of the four friends Grimaud had had so frequent occasion to make lint and bandages that he had become something of a surgeon.
In the meantime the fugitives had returned to the first room, where they took counsel together.