three friends hastened on, but in a short time were obliged to slacken the pace.
The cardinal could not keep up with them, though with every wish to do so.
Suddenly D’Artagnan touched something warm, which moved.
“Stop! a horse!” he cried; “I have found a horse!”
“And I, likewise,” said Athos.
“I, too,” said Porthos, who, faithful to the instructions, still held the cardinal’s arm.
“There’s luck, my lord! just as you were complaining of being tired and obliged to walk.”
But as he spoke the barrel of a pistol was presented at his breast and these words were pronounced: