“Forward!” cried D’Artagnan, driven to extremities, biting his moustache; and then he charged with his twenty men and dispersed them in fear.  One man alone remained in his place, gun in hand.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, “it is thou who wouldst have him assassinated?  Wait an instant.”  And he pointed his gun at D’Artagnan, who was riding toward him at full speed.  D’Artagnan bent down to his horse’s neck, the young man fired, and the ball severed the feathers from the hat.  The horse started, brushed against the imprudent man, who thought by his strength alone to stay the tempest, and he fell against the wall.  D’Artagnan pulled up his horse, and whilst his musketeers continued to charge, he returned and bent with drawn sword over the man he had knocked down.

“Oh, sir!” exclaimed Raoul, recognizing the young man as having seen him in the Rue Cocatrix, “spare him! it is his son!”

D’Artagnan’s arm dropped to his side.  “Ah, you are his son!” he said; “that is a different thing.”

“Sir, I surrender,” said Louvieres, presenting his unloaded musket to the officer.

“Eh, no! do not surrender, egad!  On the contrary, be off, and quickly.  If I take you, you will be hung!”

The young man did not wait to be told twice, but passing under the horse’s head disappeared at the corner of the Rue Guenegaud.

“I’faith!” said D’Artagnan to Raoul, “you were just in time to stay my hand.  He was a dead man; and on my honor, if I had discovered that it was his son, I should have regretted having killed him.”

“Ah! sir!” said Raoul, “allow me, after thanking you for that poor fellow’s life, to thank you on my own account.  I too, sir, was almost dead when you arrived.”

“Wait, wait, young man; do not fatigue yourself with speaking.  We can talk of it afterward.”

Then seeing that the musketeers had cleared the Quai from the Pont Neuf to the Quai Saint Michael, he raised his sword for them to double their speed.  The musketeers trotted up, and at the same time the ten men whom D’Artagnan had given to Comminges appeared.

“Halloo!” cried D’Artagnan; “has something fresh happened?”

“Eh, sir!” replied the sergeant, “their vehicle has broken down a second time; it really must be doomed.”

“They are bad managers,” said D’Artagnan, shrugging his shoulders.  “When a carriage is chosen, it ought to be strong.  The carriage in which a Broussel is to be arrested ought to be able to bear ten thousand men.”

“What are your commands, lieutenant?”

“Take the detachment and conduct him to his place.”

“But you will be left alone?”

“Certainly.  So you suppose I have need of an escort?  Go.”

The musketeers set off and D’Artagnan was left alone with Raoul.

“Now,” he said, “are you in pain?”

“Yes; my head is not only swimming but burning.”

“What’s the matter with this head?” said D’Artagnan, raising the battered hat.  “Ah! ah! a bruise.”