“And how do you know there is a young woman whom I love, and that I believed that woman dead?” asked d’Artagnan.

“By that letter which my comrade has in his pocket.”

“You see, then,” said d’Artagnan, “that I must have that letter. So no more delay, no more hesitation; or else whatever may be my repugnance to soiling my sword a second time with the blood of a wretch like you, I swear by my faith as an honest man⁠—” and at these words d’Artagnan made so fierce a gesture that the wounded man sprang up.

“Stop, stop!” cried he, regaining strength by force of terror. “I will go⁠—I will go!”

D’Artagnan took the soldier’s arquebus, made him go on before him, and urged him toward his companion by pricking him behind with his sword.