by Alexandre Dumas

“ We could scarcely have requested your mother to take a sword and fight us."
"Aha! It is a duel, then?" cried Mordaunt, as if disposed to reply at once to the provocation.
Porthos rose, always ready for this kind of adventure.
"Pardon me," said D'Artagnan. "Do not let us do things in a hurry. We will arrange the matter rather better. Confess, Monsieur Mordaunt, that you are anxious to kill some of us."
"All," replied Mordaunt.
"Then, my dear sir; I am convinced that these gentlemen return your kind wishes and will be delighted to kill you also. ”

“ Mordaunt did not reply.
"Just now," D'Artagnan continued, "you were disguised - I mean to say, attired - as a murderer, and now - - "
"And now I look very much like a man who is going to be murdered."
"Oh! sir," said D'Artagnan, "how can you talk like that when you are in the company of gentlemen and have such an excellent sword at your side?"
"No sword is excellent enough to be of use against four swords and daggers." ”

“ I think the arm will make up for the sword."
"Halt!" cried Porthos coming forward. "I begin, and without any rhetoric."
"Allow me, Porthos," said Aramis.
Athos did not move. He might have been taken for a statue. Even his breathing seemed to be arrested.
"Gentlemen," said D'Artagnan, "you shall have your turn. Monsieur Mordaunt dislikes you sufficiently not to refuse you afterward. You can see it in his eye. So pray keep your places, like Athos, whose calmness is entirely laudable. ”