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The King’s Musketeers and the Cardinal’s Guards

           "Youdonotunderstandme,gentlemen,"saidd’Artagnan,throwinguphishead,thesharpandboldlinesofwhichwereatthemomentgildedbyabrightrayofthesun."IaskedtobeexcusedincaseIshouldnotbeabletodischargemydebttoallthree;forMonsieurAthoshastherighttokillmefirst,whichmustmuchdiminishtheface-valueofyourbill,MonsieurPorthos,andrenderyoursalmostnull,MonsieurAramis.Andnow,gentlemen,Irepeat,excuseme,butonthataccountonly,andonguard!"

           Atthesewords,withthemostgallantairpossible,d’Artagnandrewhissword.

           Thebloodhadmountedtotheheadofd’Artagnan,andatthatmomenthewouldhavedrawnhisswordagainstalltheMusketeersinthekingdomaswillinglyashenowdidagainstAthos,Porthos,andAramis.

           Itwasaquarterpastmidday.Thesunwasinitszenith,andthespotchosenforthesceneoftheduelwasexposedtoitsfullardor.

           "Itisveryhot,"saidAthos,drawinghisswordinitsturn,"andyetIcannottakeoffmydoublet;forIjustnowfeltmywoundbegintobleedagain,andIshouldnotliketoannoyMonsieurwiththesightofbloodwhichhehasnotdrawnfrommehimself."

           "Thatistrue,Monsieur,"repliedd’Artagnan,"andwhetherdrawnbymyselforanother,IassureyouIshallalwaysviewwithregretthebloodofsobraveagentleman.Iwillthereforefightinmydoublet,likeyourself."

           "Come,come,enoughofsuchcompliments!"criedPorthos."Remember,wearewaitingforourturns."

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