But he was not to escape so easily. At the street door stood Porthos, talking to a sentry, and between the two men there was barely space for a man to pass. D'Artagnan took it for granted that he could get through, and darted on, swift as an arrow, but he had not reckoned on the gale that was blowing. As he passed, a sudden gust wrapt Porthos's mantle tight round him; and tho the owner of the garment could easily have freed him had he so chosen, for reasons of his own he preferred to draw the folds still closer. D'Artagnan, hearing the volley of oaths let fall by the musketeers, feared he might have damaged the splendor of the belt, and struggled to unwind himself; but when he at length freed his head, he found that like most things in this world the belt had two sides, and while the front bristled with gold, the back was mere leather; which explains why Porthos always had a cold and could not part from his mantle. "Confound you!" cried Porthos, struggling in his turn, "have you gone mad, that you tumble over people like this?" "Excuse me," answered D'Artagnan, "but I am in a great hurry. I am pursuing some one, and--" "And I suppose that on such occasions you leave your eyes behind you?" asked Porthos. "No," replied D'Artagnan, rather nettled; "and thanks to my eyes, I often see things that other people don't." Possibly Porthos might have understood this allusion, but in any case he did not attempt to control his anger, and said sharply: "Monsieur, we shall have to give you a lesson if you take to tumbling against the musketeers like this!" "A lesson, monsieur!" replied D'Artagnan; "that is rather a severe expression." "It is the expression of a man who is always accustomed to look his enemies in the face." "Oh, if that is all, there is no fear of your turning your back on anybody," and enchanted at his own wit, the young man walked away in fits of laughter. Porthos foamed with rage, and rushed after D'Artagnan. "By and by, by and by," cried the latter; "when you have not got your mantle on." "At one o'clock then, behind the Luxembourg." "All right; at one o'clock," replied D'Artagnan as he vanished around the corner.... Moreover, he had gotten himself into two fierce duels with two men, each able to kill three D'Artagnans; in a word, with two musketeers--beings he set so high that he placed them above all other men. It was a sad lookout. To be sure, as the youth was certain to be killed by Athos, he was not much disturbed about Porthos. As hope is the last thing to die in a man's heart, however, he ended by hoping that he might come out alive from both duels, even if dreadfully injured; and on that supposition he scored himself in this way for his conduct: