“If Porthos were on his legs, he would have rejoined us by this time,” said Athos. “My opinion is that on the ground the drunken man was not intoxicated.” They continued at their best speed for two hours, although the horses were so fatigued that it was to be feared they would soon refuse service. The travelers had chosen crossroads in the hope that they might meet with less interruption; but at Crèvecœur, Aramis declared he could proceed no farther. In fact, it required all the courage which he concealed beneath his elegant form and polished manners to bear him so far. He grew more pale every minute, and they were obliged to support him on his horse. They lifted him off at the door of a cabaret, left Bazin with him, who, besides, in a skirmish was more embarrassing than useful, and set forward again in the hope of sleeping at Amiens. “_Morbleu_,” said Athos, as soon as they were again in motion, “reduced to two masters and Grimaud and Planchet! _Morbleu!_ I won’t be their dupe, I will answer for it. I will neither open my mouth nor draw my sword between this and Calais. I swear by—” “Don’t waste time in swearing,” said D’Artagnan; “let us gallop, if our horses will consent.” And the travelers buried their rowels in their horses’ flanks, who thus vigorously stimulated recovered their energies. They arrived at Amiens at midnight, and alighted at the _auberge_ of the Golden Lily. The host had the appearance of as honest a man as any on earth. He received the travelers with his candlestick in one hand and his cotton nightcap in the other. He wished to lodge the two travelers each in a charming chamber; but unfortunately these charming chambers were at the opposite extremities of the hôtel. D’Artagnan and Athos refused them. The host replied that he had no other worthy of their Excellencies; but the travelers declared they would sleep in the common chamber, each on a mattress which might be thrown upon the ground. The host insisted; but the travelers were firm, and he was obliged to do as they wished. They had just prepared their beds and barricaded their door within, when someone knocked at the yard shutter; they demanded who was there, and recognizing the voices of their lackeys, opened the shutter. It was indeed Planchet and Grimaud. “Grimaud can take care of the horses,” said Planchet. “If you are willing, gentlemen, I will sleep across your doorway, and you will then be certain that nobody can reach you.” “And on what will you sleep?” said D’Artagnan. “Here is my bed,” replied Planchet, producing a bundle of straw. “Come, then,” said D’Artagnan, “you are right. Mine host’s face does not please me at all; it is too gracious.” “Nor me either,” said Athos. Planchet mounted by the window and installed himself across the doorway, while Grimaud went and shut himself up in the stable, undertaking that by five o’clock in the morning he and the four horses should be ready.