wild undertaking of the four friends—an undertaking of which they were far from suspecting the real motive. Nothing was heard but cries of “Live the Musketeers! Live the Guards!” M. de Busigny was the first to come and shake Athos by the hand, and acknowledge that the wager was lost. The dragoon and the Swiss followed him, and all their comrades followed the dragoon and the Swiss. There was nothing but felicitations, pressures of the hand, and embraces; there was no end to the inextinguishable laughter at the Rochellais. The tumult at length became so great that the cardinal fancied there must be some riot, and sent La Houdinière, his captain of the Guards, to inquire what was going on.
The affair was described to the messenger with all the effervescence of enthusiasm.
“Well?” asked the cardinal, on seeing La Houdinière return.
“Well, monseigneur,” replied the latter, “three musketeers and a guardsman laid a wager with M. de Busigny that they would go and breakfast in the bastion St. Gervais; and while breakfasting they held it for two hours against the enemy, and have killed I don’t know how many Rochellais.”
“Did you inquire the names of those three musketeers?”
“Yes, monseigneur.”
“What are their names?”
“ MM. Athos, Porthos, and Aramis.”
“Still my three brave fellows!” murmured the cardinal. “And the guardsman?”
“D’Artagnan.”