D’Artagnan’s arm dropped to his side. “Ah, you are his son!” he said; “that is a different thing.” “Sir, I surrender,” said Louvières, presenting his unloaded musket to the officer. “Eh, no! do not surrender, egad! On the contrary, be off, and quickly. If I take you, you will be hung!” The young man did not wait to be told twice, but passing under the horse’s head disappeared at the corner of the Rue Guénégaud. “I’faith!” said D’Artagnan to Raoul, “you were just in time to stay my hand. He was a dead man; and on my honor, if I had discovered that it was his son, I should have regretted having killed him.” “Ah! sir!” said Raoul, “allow me, after thanking you for that poor fellow’s life, to thank you on my own account. I too, sir, was almost dead when you arrived.” “Wait, wait, young man; do not fatigue yourself with speaking. We can talk of it afterward.” Then seeing that the musketeers had cleared the Quai from the Pont Neuf to the Quai Saint Michael, he raised his sword for them to double their speed. The musketeers trotted up, and at the same time the ten men whom D’Artagnan had given to Comminges appeared. “Halloo!” cried D’Artagnan; “has something fresh happened?” “Eh, sir!” replied the sergeant, “their vehicle has broken down a second time; it really must be doomed.” “They are bad managers,” said D’Artagnan, shrugging his shoulders. “When a carriage is chosen, it ought to be strong. The carriage in which a Broussel is to be arrested ought to be able to bear ten thousand men.” “What are your commands, lieutenant?” “Take the detachment and conduct him to his place.” “But you will be left alone?” “Certainly. So you suppose I have need of an escort? Go.” The musketeers set off and D’Artagnan was left alone with Raoul. “Now,” he said, “are you in pain?” “Yes; my head is not only swimming but burning.” “What’s the matter with this head?” said D’Artagnan, raising the battered hat. “Ah! ah! a bruise.” “Yes, I think I received a flower-pot upon my head.” “Brutes!” said D’Artagnan. “But were you not on horseback? you have spurs.” “Yes, but I got down to defend Monsieur de Comminges and my horse was taken away. Here it is, I see.” At this very moment Friquet passed, mounted on Raoul’s horse, waving his parti-colored cap and crying, “Broussel! Broussel!” “Halloo! stop, rascal!” cried D’Artagnan. “Bring hither that horse.” Friquet heard perfectly, but he pretended not to do so and tried to continue his road. D’Artagnan felt inclined for an instant to pursue Master Friquet, but not wishing to leave Raoul alone he contented himself with taking a pistol from the holster and cocking it. Friquet had a quick eye and a fine ear. He saw D’Artagnan’s movement, heard the sound of the click, and stopped at once. “Ah! it is you, your honor,” he said, advancing toward D’Artagnan; “and I am truly pleased to meet you.” D’Artagnan looked attentively at Friquet and recognized the little chorister of the Rue de la Calandre.