to the bottom of the sea; and if you come another fathom nearer, I’ll stave your wicked head in with this oar.”
“D’Artagnan! D’Artagnan!” cried Athos, “my son, I entreat you; the wretch is dying, and it is horrible to let a man die without extending a hand to save him. I cannot resist doing so; he must live.”
“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.