by Alexandre Dumas

“ He tore his hair.
"Oh!" he cried, "Athos! Athos! thou man of noble heart; woe is me! I have let thee perish!"
At this instant, in the midst of the silver circle illumined by the light of the moon the same whirlpool which had been made by the sinking men was again obvious, and first were seen, rising above the waves, a wisp of hair, then a pale face with open eyes, yet, nevertheless, the eyes of death; then a body, which, after rising of itself even to the waist above the sea, turned gently on its back, according to the caprice of the waves, and floated. ”

“ Athos extended his arm toward him, pointing him out to his companions.
"Yes, yes, I see him well enough," said D'Artagnan.
"He - again!" cried Porthos, who was breathing like a blacksmith's bellows; "why, he is made of iron."
"Oh, my God!" muttered Athos.
Aramis and D'Artagnan whispered to each other.
Mordaunt made several strokes more, and raising his arm in sign of distress above the waves: "Pity, pity on me, gentlemen, in Heaven's name! my strength is failing me; I am dying." ”

“ Mordaunt reappeared.
"For my part," said D'Artagnan, "I say this must come to an end; murderer, as you were, of your uncle! executioner, as you were, of King Charles! incendiary! I recommend you to sink forthwith to the bottom of the sea; and if you come another fathom nearer, I'll stave your wicked head in with this oar."
"D'Artagnan! D'Artagnan!" cried Athos, "my son, I entreat you; the wretch is dying, and it is horrible to let a man die without extending a hand to save him. I cannot resist doing so; he must live." ”