“Monsieur le vicomte has no sword.”

“’Tis well,” said Athos, “I will take care of that.”

They went downstairs, Raoul looking every now and then at the count to see if the moment of farewell was at hand, but Athos was silent.  When they reached the steps Raoul saw three horses.

“Oh, sir! then you are going with me?”

“I will accompany you a portion of the way,” said Athos.

Joy shone in Raoul’s eyes and he leaped lightly to his saddle.

Athos mounted more slowly, after speaking in a low voice to the lackey, who, instead of following them immediately, returned to their rooms.  Raoul, delighted at the count’s companionship, perceived, or affected to perceive nothing of this byplay.

They set out, passing over the Pont Neuf; they pursued their way along the quay then called L’Abreuvoir Pepin, and went along by the walls of the Grand Chatelet.  They proceeded to the Rue Saint Denis.

After passing through the Porte Saint Denis, Athos looked at Raoul’s way of riding and observed: 

“Take care, Raoul!  I have already often told you of this; you must not forget it, for it is a great defect in a rider.  See! your horse is tired already, he froths at the mouth, whilst mine looks as if he had only just left the stable.  You hold the bit too tight and so make his mouth hard, so that you will not be able to make him manoeuvre quickly.  The safety of a cavalier often depends on the prompt obedience of his horse.  In a week, remember, you will no longer be performing your manoeuvres for practice, but on a field of battle.”

Then suddenly, in order not to give too uncomfortable an importance to this observation: 

“See, Raoul!” he resumed; “what a fine plain for partridge shooting.”

The young man stored in his mind the admonition whilst he admired the delicate tenderness with which it was bestowed.

“I have remarked also another thing,” said Athos, “which is, that in firing off your pistol you hold your arm too far outstretched.  This tension lessens the accuracy of the aim.  So in twelve times you thrice missed the mark.”

“Which you, sir, struck twelve times,” answered Raoul, smiling.

“Because I bent my arm and rested my hand on my elbow —­ so; do you understand what I mean?”

“Yes, sir.  I have fired since in that manner and have been quite successful.”

“What a cold wind!” resumed Athos; “a wintry blast.  Apropos, if you fire —­ and you will do so, for you are recommended to a young general who is very fond of powder —­ remember that in single combat, which often takes place in the cavalry, never to fire the first shot.  He who fires the first shot rarely hits his man, for he fires with the apprehension of being disarmed, before an armed foe; then, whilst he fires, make your horse rear; that manoeuvre has saved my life several times.”

“I shall do so, if only in gratitude ——­ "