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The Seige of La Rochelle

           HowcanIgoandfetchthatletterunderthefireofthebastion?"

           "Youmustneverthelessmakeupyourmindtogoandgetit,orIswearyoushalldiebymyhand."

           "Pardon,monsieur;pity!Inthenameofthatyoungladyyoulove,andwhomyouperhapsbelievedeadbutwhoisnot!"criedthebandit,throwinghimselfuponhiskneesandleaninguponhishandforhebegantolosehisstrengthwithhisblood.

           "AndhowdoyouknowthereisayoungwomanwhomIlove,andthatIbelievedthatwomandead?"askedd’Artagnan.

           "Bythatletterwhichmycomradehasinhispocket."

           "Yousee,then,"saidd’Artagnan,"thatImusthavethatletter.Sonomoredelay,nomorehesitation;orelsewhatevermaybemyrepugnancetosoilingmyswordasecondtimewiththebloodofawretchlikeyou,Iswearbymyfaithasanhonestman—"andatthesewordsd’Artagnanmadesofierceagesturethatthewoundedmansprangup.

           "Stop,stop!"criedhe,regainingstrengthbyforceofterror."IwillgoIwillgo!"

           D’Artagnantookthesoldier’sarquebus,madehimgoonbeforehim,andurgedhimtowardhiscompanionbyprickinghimbehindwithhissword.

           Itwasafrightfulthingtoseethiswretch,leavingalongtrackofbloodonthegroundhepassedover,palewithapproachingdeath,tryingtodraghimselfalongwithoutbeingseentothebodyofhisaccomplice,whichlaytwentypacesfromhim.

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