The Wife of Athos
“We have now to search for Athos,” said d’Artagnan to the vivacious Aramis, when he had informed him of all that had passed since their departure from the capital, and an excellent dinner had made one of them forget his thesis and the other his fatigue.
“Do you think, then, that any harm can have happened to him?” asked Aramis. “Athos is so cool, so brave, and handles his sword so skillfully.”
“No doubt. Nobody has a higher opinion of the courage and skill of Athos than I have; but I like better to hear my sword clang against lances than against staves. I fear lest Athos should have been beaten down by serving men. Those fellows strike hard, and don’t leave off in a hurry. This is why I wish to set out again as soon as possible.”
“I will try to accompany you,” said Aramis, “though I scarcely feel in a condition to mount on horseback. Yesterday I undertook to employ that cord which you see hanging against the wall, but pain prevented my continuing the pious exercise.”
“That’s the first time I ever heard of anybody trying to cure gunshot wounds with cat-o’-nine-tails; but you were ill, and illness renders the head weak, therefore you may be excused.”
“When do you mean to set out?”
“Tomorrow at daybreak. Sleep as soundly as you can tonight, and tomorrow, if you can, we will take our departure together.”