And seizing the butcher by the throat:
“Porthos,” said he, “kill this fellow for me with a single blow.”
Porthos raised his terrible fist, which whistled through the air like a sling, and the portentous mass fell with a smothered crash on the insulter’s skull and crushed it. The man fell like an ox beneath the poleaxe. His companions, horror-struck, could neither move nor cry out.
“Tell them this, Athos,” resumed D’Artagnan; “thus shall all die who forget that a captive man is sacred and that a captive king doubly represents the Lord.”
Athos repeated D’Artagnan’s words.
The fellows looked at the body of their