by Alexandre Dumas

“ The duke, as he spoke, kissed his hand, spurred his horse into a gallop and disappeared, followed by his troop, who were soon lost in distance and darkness.
D'Artagnan and Porthos were now alone with a man who held by the bridles two horses; they thought it was Musqueton and went up to him.
"What do I see?" cried the lieutenant. "Grimaud, is it thou?"
Grimaud signified that he was not mistaken.
"And whose horses are these?" cried D'Artagnan.
"Who has given them to us?" said Porthos.
"The Comte de la Fere."
"Athos! Athos!" muttered D'Artagnan; "you think of every one; you are indeed a nobleman! ”

“ Porthos and D'Artagnan roared out both at once.
A burst of laughter was the answer, but finished with a groan. D'Artagnan had, with his sword, cut in two the poor wretch who had laughed.
At the same time Porthos and his adversary fired on each other and D'Artagnan turned to him.
"Bravo! you've killed him, I think."
"No, wounded his horse only."
"What would you have, my dear fellow? One doesn't hit the bull's-eye every time; it is something to hit inside the ring. Ho! parbleau! what is the matter with my horse?"
"Your horse is falling," said Porthos, reining in his own. ”

“ Porthos understood him and he and the lieutenant each drew with the left hand a pistol from their bolsters and cocked it in their turn.
"Who goes there?" was asked a second time. "Not a step forward, or you're dead men."
"Stuff!" cried Porthos, almost choked with dust and chewing his bridle as a horse chews his bit. "Stuff and nonsense; we have seen plenty of dead men in our time."
Hearing these words, the two shadows blockaded the road and by the light of the stars might be seen the shining of their arms.
"Back!" shouted D'Artagnan, "or you are dead!" ”