They went on through the darkness, silent as phantoms; they saw a light glimmering in the midst of some trees. “Yonder is the house, Porthos,” said the Gascon; “let me do what I please and do you what I do.” They glided from tree to tree till they arrived at twenty steps from the house unperceived and saw by means of a lantern suspended under a hut, four fine horses. A groom was rubbing them down; near them were saddles and bridles. D’Artagnan approached quickly, making a sign to his two companions to remain a few steps behind. “I buy those horses,” he said to the groom. The groom turned toward him with a look of surprise, but made no reply. “Didn’t you hear, fellow?” “Yes, I heard.” “Why, then, didn’t you reply?” “Because these horses are not to be sold,” was the reply. “I take them, then,” said the lieutenant. And he took hold of one within his reach; his two companions did the same thing. “Sir,” cried the groom, “they have traversed six leagues and have only been unsaddled half an hour.” “Half an hour’s rest is enough,” replied the Gascon. The groom cried aloud for help. A kind of steward appeared, just as D’Artagnan and his companions were prepared to mount. The steward attempted to expostulate. “My dear friend,” cried the lieutenant, “if you say a word I will blow out your brains.” “But, sir,” answered the steward, “do you know that these horses belong to Monsieur de Montbazon?” “So much the better; they must be good animals, then.” “Sir, I shall call my people.” “And I, mine; I’ve ten guards behind me, don’t you hear them gallop? and I’m one of the king’s musketeers. Come, Porthos; come, Mousqueton.” They all mounted the horses as quickly as possible. “Halloo! hi! hi!” cried the steward; “the house servants, with the carbines!” “On! on!” cried D’Artagnan; “there’ll be firing! on!” They all set off, swift as the wind. “Here!” cried the steward, “here!” whilst the groom ran to a neighboring building. “Take care of your horses!” cried D’Artagnan to him. “Fire!” replied the steward. A gleam, like a flash of lightning, illumined the road, and with the flash was heard the whistling of balls, which were fired wildly in the air. “They fire like grooms,” said Porthos. “In the time of the cardinal people fired better than that, do you remember the road to Crèvecœur, Mousqueton?” “Ah, sir! my left side still pains me!” “Are you sure we are on the right track, lieutenant?” “Egad, didn’t you hear? these horses belong to Monsieur de Montbazon; well, Monsieur de Montbazon is the husband of Madame de Montbazon——” “And——” “And Madame de Montbazon is the mistress of the Duc de Beaufort.” “Ah! I understand,” replied Porthos; “she has ordered relays of horses.” “Exactly so.” “And we are pursuing the duke with the very horses he has just left?” “My dear Porthos, you are really a man of most superior understanding,” said D’Artagnan, with a look as if he spoke against his conviction.