“There they are, coming out.”

“If only they close the guardhouse door!  Good!  They close it.”

“What, then?”

“Silence!  They may hear us.”

“I don’t understand it at all.”

“As you execute you will understand.”

“And yet I should have preferred ——­ "

“You will have the pleasure of the surprise.”

“Ah, that is true.”

“Hush!”

Porthos remained silent and motionless.

In fact, the two soldiers advanced on the side where the window was, rubbing their hands, for it was cold, it being the month of February.

At this moment the door of the guardhouse was opened and one of the soldiers was summoned away.

“Now,” said D’Artagnan, “I am going to call this soldier and talk to him.  Don’t lose a word of what I’m going to say to you, Porthos.  Everything lies in the execution.”

“Good, the execution of plots is my forte.”

“I know it well.  I depend on you.  Look, I shall turn to the left, so that the soldier will be at your right, as soon as he mounts on the bench to talk to us.”

“But supposing he doesn’t mount?”

“He will; rely upon it.  As soon as you see him get up, stretch out your arm and seize him by the neck.  Then, raising him up as Tobit raised the fish by the gills, you must pull him into the room, taking care to squeeze him so tight that he can’t cry out.”

“Oh!” said Porthos.  “Suppose I happen to strangle him?”

“To be sure there would only be a Swiss the less in the world; but you will not do so, I hope.  Lay him down here; we’ll gag him and tie him —­ no matter where —­ somewhere.  So we shall get from him one uniform and a sword.”

“Marvelous!” exclaimed Porthos, looking at the Gascon with the most profound admiration.

“Pooh!” replied D’Artagnan.

“Yes,” said Porthos, recollecting himself, “but one uniform and one sword will not suffice for two.”

“Well; but there’s his comrade.”

“True,” said Porthos.

“Therefore, when I cough, stretch out your arm.”

“Good!”

The two friends then placed themselves as they had agreed, Porthos being completely hidden in an angle of the window.

“Good-evening, comrade,” said D’Artagnan in his most fascinating voice and manner.

“Good-evening, sir,” answered the soldier, in a strong provincial accent.

“’Tis not too warm to walk,” resumed D’Artagnan.

“No, sir.”

“And I think a glass of wine will not be disagreeable to you?”

“A glass of wine will be extremely welcome.”

“The fish bites —­ the fish bites!” whispered the Gascon to Porthos.

“I understand,” said Porthos.

“A bottle, perhaps?”

“A whole bottle?  Yes, sir.”

“A whole bottle, if you will drink my health.”

“Willingly,” answered the soldier.