"Saved!" mechanically repeated the young gentleman, releasing the mane and sliding from the saddle into Raoul's arms; Raoul was but ten yards from the shore; there he bore the fainting man, and laying him down upon the grass, unfastened the buttons of his collar and unhooked his doublet. A moment later the gray-headed man was beside him.
Olivain managed in his turn to land, after crossing himself repeatedly; and the people in the ferryboat guided themselves as well as they were able toward the bank, with the aid of a pole which chanced to be in the boat.
Thanks to the attentions of Raoul and the man who accompanied the young gentleman, the color gradually returned to the pale cheeks of the dying man, who opened his eyes, at first entirely bewildered, but who soon fixed his gaze upon the person who had saved him.
"Ah, sir," he exclaimed, "it was you! Without you I was a dead man -- thrice dead."
"But one recovers, sir, as you perceive," replied Raoul, "and we have but had a little bath."
"Oh! sir, what gratitude I feel!" exclaimed the man with gray hair.
"Ah, there you are, my good D'Arminges; I have given you a great fright, have I not? but it is your own fault. You were my tutor, why did you not teach me to swim?"
"Oh, monsieur le comte," replied the old man, "had any misfortune happened to you, I should never have dared to show myself to the marshal again."
"But how did the accident happen?" asked Raoul.
"Oh, sir, in the most natural way possible," replied he to whom they had given the title of count. "We were about a third of the way across the river when the cord of the ferryboat broke. Alarmed by the cries and gestures of the boatmen, my horse sprang into the water. I cannot swim, and dared not throw myself into the river. Instead of aiding the movements of my horse, I paralyzed them; and I was just going to drown myself with the best grace in the world, when you arrived just in time to pull me out of the water; therefore, sir, if you will agree, henceforward we are friends until death."
"Sir," replied Raoul, bowing, "I am entirely at your service, I assure you."
"I am called the Count de Guiche," continued the young man;
"my father is the Marechal de Grammont; and now that you know who I am, do me the honor to inform me who you are."
"I am the Viscount de Bragelonne," answered Raoul, blushing at being unable to name his father, as the Count de Guiche had done.
"Viscount, your countenance, your goodness and your courage incline me toward you; my gratitude is already due. Shake hands -- I crave your friendship."
"Sir," said Raoul, returning the count's pressure of the hand, "I like you already, from my heart; pray regard me as a devoted friend, I beseech you."
And now, where are you going, viscount?" inquired De Guiche.
"To join the army, under the prince, count."
"And I, too!" exclaimed the young man, in a transport of joy. "Oh, so much the better, we will fire the first shot together."
"It is well; be friends," said the tutor; "young as you both are, you were perhaps born under the same star and were destined to meet. And now," continued he, "you must change your clothes; your servants, to whom I gave directions the moment they had left the ferryboat, ought to be already at the inn. Linen and wine are both being warmed; come."
The young men had no objection to this proposition; on the contrary, they thought it very timely.
They mounted again at once, whilst looks of admiration passed between them. They were indeed two elegant horsemen, with figures slight and upright, noble faces, bright and proud looks, loyal and intelligent smiles.
De Guiche might have been about eighteen years of age, but he was scarcely taller than Raoul, who was only fifteen.
