The fisherman was interrupted by a fresh discharge directed against the house, and by another pistol-shot which replied to the discharge and struck down the most daring of the aggressors. The rage of the soldiers was at its height. The fire still continued to increase, and a crest of flame and smoke whirled and spread over the roof of the house. D’Artagnan could no longer contain himself. “Mordioux!” said he to Monk, glancing at him sideways: “you are a general, and allow your men to burn houses and assassinate people, while you look on and warm your hands at the blaze of the conflagration? Mordioux! you are not a man.” “Patience, sir, patience!” said Monk, smiling. “Patience! yes, until that brave gentleman is roasted—is that what you mean?” And D’Artagnan rushed forward. “Remain where you are, sir,” said Monk, in a tone of command. And he advanced towards the house, just as an officer had approached it, saying to the besieged: “The house is burning, you will be roasted within an hour! There is still time—come, tell us what you know of General Monk, and we will spare your life. Reply, or by Saint Patrick——” The besieged made no answer; he was no doubt reloading his pistol. “A reinforcement is expected,” continued the officer; “in a quarter of an hour there will be a hundred men around your house.” “I reply to you,” said the Frenchman. “Let your men be sent away; I will come out freely and repair to the camp alone, or else I will be killed here!” “Mille tonnerres!” shouted D’Artagnan; “why that’s the voice of Athos! Ah, canailles!” and the sword of D’Artagnan flashed from its sheath. Monk stopped him and advanced himself, exclaiming, in a sonorous voice: “Hola! what is going on here? Digby, whence this fire? why these cries?” “The general!” cried Digby, letting the point of his sword fall. “The general!” repeated the soldiers. “Well, what is there so astonishing in that?” said Monk, in a calm tone. Then, silence being re-established—“Now,” said he, “who lit this fire?” The soldiers hung their heads. “What! do I ask a question, and nobody answers me?” said Monk. “What! do I find a fault, and nobody repairs it? The fire is still burning, I believe.” Immediately the twenty men rushed forward, seizing pails, buckets, jars, barrels, and extinguishing the fire with as much ardor as they had, an instant before employed in promoting it. But already, and before all the rest, D’Artagnan had applied a ladder to the house crying, “Athos! it is I, D’Artagnan! Do not kill me my dearest friend!” And in a moment the count was clasped in his arms. In the meantime, Grimaud, preserving his calmness, dismantled the fortification of the ground-floor, and after having opened the door, stood with his arms folded quietly on the sill. Only, on hearing the voice of D’Artagnan, he uttered an exclamation of surprise. The fire being extinguished, the soldiers presented themselves, Digby at their head.