This contest at length exhausted Jussac’s patience. Furious at being held in check by one whom he had considered a boy， he grew angry and began to make mistakes. D’Artagnan， who， though wanting in practice， had a profound theory， redoubled his agility. Jussac， anxious to put an end to this， springing forward， aimed a terrible thrust at his adversary， but the latter parried it； and while Jussac was recovering himself， glided like a serpent beneath his blade， and passed his sword through his body. Jussac fell in a heap.
D’Artagnan then cast an anxious and rapid glance over the field of battle.Aramis had already killed one of his adversaries， but the other was pressing him warmly. Nevertheless Aramis was in a good situation and still able to defend himself.
Bicarat and Porthos had just made counter hits. Porthos had received a thrust through his arm， and Bicarat one through his thigh. But neither of the wounds was serious， and they only fought the more earnestly for them.
Athos， wounded again by Cahusac， was steadily growing paler， but did not give way a foot； he had only changed his sword-hand， and was fighting with his left.
According to the laws of duelling at that period， D’Artagnan was at liberty to assist the one he pleased. While he was trying to find out which of his companions needed his aid， he caught a glance from Athos. This glance was of sublime eloquence. Athos would have died rather than appeal for help； but he could look， and with that look ask assistance. D’Artagnan interpreted it. With a terrible bound he sprang to the side of Cahusac， crying，“To me， Sir Guard， or I will slay you！”
Cahusac turned. It was time， for Athos， whose great courage alone supported him， sank upon his knee.
“ ’Sblood！” cried he to D’Artagnan， “do not kill him， young man， I beg of you. I have an old affair to settle with him when I am healed and sound again. Disarm him only； make sure of his sword. That’s it！ that’s it！ well done！ very well done！”
This exclamation was drawn from Athos by seeing the sword of Cahusac fly twenty paces from him. D’Artagnan and Cahusac sprang forward at the same instant， the one to recover， the other to obtain， the sword； but D’Artagnan， being the more active， reached it first and placed his foot upon it.
Cahusac immediately ran to the guardsman whom Aramis had killed， seized his rapier， and returned towards D’Artagnan； but on his way he met Athos， who， during the momentary relief which D’Artagnan had procured for him， had recovered his breath， and who， for fear that D’Artagnan should kill his own personal enemy， wished to resume the fight.
D’Artagnan perceived that it would be disobliging Athos not to leave him alone； and in a few minutes Cahusac fell， with a swordthrust through his throat.
At the same instant Aramis placed his sword-point on the breast of his fallen enemy， and compelled him to ask for mercy.
Only Porthos and Bicarat remained. Porthos was boasting merrily， asking Bicarat what o’clock it could be， and offering him his compliments upon his brother having just obtained a company in the regiment of Navarre； but joke as he might， he gained no advantage. Bicarat was one of those iron men who never fall dead.
Nevertheless it was necessary to put an end to the affair. The watch might come up and take all the combatants， wounded or not， royalists or cardinalists. Athos， Aramis， and D’Artagnan surrounded Bicarat and summoned him to surrender. Though alone against all， and with a wound in his thigh， Bicarat wished to hold out； but Jussac， who had risen upon his elbow， cried out to him to yield. Bicarat was a Gascon， as D’Artagnan was； he turned a deaf ear， and contented himself with laughing； and between two parries， finding time to point to a spot of earth with his sword.
“Here，” cried he， parodying a verse of the Bible—“here will Bicarat die， the only one of those who are with him！”
“But there are four against you； leave off， I command you！”
“Ah， if you command me， that’s another thing，” said Bicarat； “you being my sergeant， it is my duty to obey.”
And springing backward， he broke his sword across his knee to avoid the necessity of surrendering it， threw the pieces over the convent wall， and crossed his arms， whistling a cardinalist air.
Bravery is always respected， even in an enemy. The musketeers saluted Bicarat with their swords， and returned them to their sheaths. D’Artagnan did the same； then assisted by Bicarat， the only one left standing， he bore Jussac， Cahusac， and that one of Aramis’s adversaries who was only wounded， under the porch of the convent. The fourth， as we have said， was dead. They then rang the bell， and carrying away four swords out of five， they took their road， intoxicated with joy， towards the h？tel of M. de Tréville.
They walked arm in arm， occupying the whole width of the street， and accosting every musketeer they met， so that in the end it became a triumphal march. The heart of D’Artagnan throbbed with wild delight； he walked between Athos and Porthos， pressing them tenderly.
“If I am not yet a musketeer，” said he to his new friends， as he passed through the gateway of M. de Tréville’s h？tel， “at least I have entered upon my apprenticeship， haven’t I？”
