“Ah, my faith!” said Athos, “you require too much, d’Artagnan. I have given you all I have, and I beg leave to tell you that this is the bottom of my sack.”
“But I think it would be still better,” said Aramis, “to inform the queen and Lord de Winter at the same time.”
“Yes; but who is to carry the letter to Tours, and who to London?”
“I answer for Bazin,” said Aramis.
“And I for Planchet,” said d’Artagnan.
“Ay,” said Porthos, “if we cannot leave the camp, our lackeys may.”
“To be sure they may; and this very day we will write the letters,” said Aramis. “Give the lackeys money, and they will start.”
“We will give them money?” replied Athos. “Have you any money?”
The four friends looked at one another, and a cloud came over the brows which but lately had been so cheerful.
“Look out!” cried d’Artagnan, “I see black points and red points moving yonder. Why did you talk of a regiment, Athos? It is a veritable army!”
“My faith, yes,” said Athos; “there they are. See the sneaks come, without drum or trumpet. Ah, ah! have you finished, Grimaud?”
Grimaud made a sign in the affirmative, and pointed to a dozen bodies which he had set up in the most picturesque attitudes. Some carried arms, others seemed to be taking aim, and the remainder appeared merely to be sword in hand.
“Bravo!” said Athos; “that does honor to your imagination.”