“Zounds!” replied D’Artagnan, “why don’t you give yourself up directly, feet and hands bound, to that wretch?

Ah! Comte de la Fere, you wish to perish by his hands! I, your son, as you call me — I will not let you!”

‘Twas the first time D’Artagnan had ever refused a request from Athos.

Aramis calmly drew his sword, which he had carried between his teeth as he swam.

“If he lays his hand on the boat’s edge I will cut it off, regicide that he is.”

“And I,” said Porthos. “Wait.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Aramis.