Scarcely had D'Artagnan uttered these words when a ringingand sudden noise was heard resounding through the felucca,which had now become dim in the obscurity of the night.

"That, you may be sure," said the Gascon, "means something."

They then at the same instant perceived a large lanterncarried on a pole appear on the deck, defining the forms ofshadows behind it.

Suddenly a terrible cry, a cry of despair, was waftedthrough space; and as if the shrieks of anguish had drivenaway the clouds, the veil which hid the moon was cleatedaway and the gray sails and dark shrouds of the felucca wereplainly visible beneath the silvery light.

Shadows ran, as if bewildered, to and fro on the vessel, andmournful cries accompanied these delirious walkers. In themidst of these screams they saw Mordaunt upon the poop witha torch in hand.

The agitated figures, apparently wild with terror, consistedof Groslow, who at the hour fixed by Mordaunt had collectedhis men and the sailors. Mordaunt, after having listened atthe door of the cabin to hear if the musketeers were stillasleep, had gone down into the cellar, convinced by theirsilence that they were all in a deep slumber. Then he hadrun to the train, impetuous as a man who is excited byrevenge, and full of confidence, as are those whom Godblinds, he had set fire to the wick of nitre.

All this while Groslow and his men were assembled on deck.

"Haul up the cable and draw the boat to us," said Groslow.

One of the sailors got down the side of the ship, seized thecable, and drew it; it came without the least resistance.

"The cable is cut!" he cried, "no boat!"

"How! no boat!" exclaimed Groslow; "it is impossible."

"'Tis true, however," answered the sailor; "there's nothingin the wake of the ship; besides, here's the end of thecable."

"What's the matter?" cried Mordaunt, who, coming up out ofthe hatchway, rushed to the stern, waving his torch.

"Only that our enemies have escaped; they have cut the cordand gone off with the boat."

Mordaunt bounded with one step to the cabin and kicked openthe door.

"Empty!" he exclaimed; "the infernal demons!"

"We must pursue them," said Groslow, "they can't be gonefar, and we will sink them, passing over them."

"Yes, but the fire," ejaculated Mordaunt; "I have lightedit."

"Ten thousand devils!" cried Groslow, rushing to thehatchway; "perhaps there is still time to save us."

Mordaunt answered only by a terrible laugh, threw his torchinto the sea and plunged in after it. The instant Groslowput his foot upon the hatchway steps the ship opened likethe crater of a volcano. A burst of flame rose toward theskies with an explosion like that of a hundred cannon; theair burned, ignited by flaming embers, then the frightfullightning disappeared, the brands sank, one after another,into the abyss, where they were extinguished, and save for aslight vibration in the air, after a few minutes had elapsedone would have thought that nothing had happened.

Only - the felucca had disappeared from the surface of thesea and Groslow and his three sailors were consumed.

The four friends saw all this - not a single detail of thisfearful scene escaped them. At one moment, bathed as theywere in a flood of brilliant light, which illumined the seafor the space of a league, they might each be seen, each byhis own peculiar attitude and manner expressing the awewhich, even in their hearts of bronze, they could not helpexperiencing. Soon a torrent of vivid sparks fell aroundthem - then, at last, the volcano was extinguished - thenall was dark and still - the floating bark and heavingocean.

They sat silent and dejected.

"By Heaven!" at last said Athos, the first to speak, "bythis time, I think, all must be over."

"Here, my lords! save me! help!" cried a voice, whosemournful accents, reaching the four friends, seemed toproceed from some phantom of the ocean.

All looked around; Athos himself stared.

"'Tis he! it is his voice!"

All still remained silent, the eyes of all were turned inthe direction where the vessel had disappeared, endeavoringin vain to penetrate the darkness. After a minute or twothey were able to distinguish a man, who approached them,swimming vigorously.

Athos extended his arm toward him, pointing him out to hiscompanions.

"Yes, yes, I see him well enough," said D'Artagnan.

"He - again!" cried Porthos, who was breathing like ablacksmith's bellows; "why, he is made of iron."

"Oh, my God!" muttered Athos.

Aramis and D'Artagnan whispered to each other.

Mordaunt made several strokes more, and raising his arm insign of distress above the waves: "Pity, pity on me,gentlemen, in Heaven's name! my strength is failing me; I amdying."

The voice that implored aid was so piteous that it awakenedpity in the heart of Athos.

"Poor fellow!" he exclaimed.

"Indeed!" said D'Artagnan, "monsters have only to complainto gain your sympathy. I believe he's swimming toward us.Does he think we are going to take him in? Row, Porthos,row." And setting the example he plowed his oar into thesea; two strokes took the bark on twenty fathoms further.

"Oh! you will not abandon me! You will not leave me toperish! You will not be pitiless!" cried Mordaunt.

"Ah! ah!" said Porthos to Mordaunt, "I think we have younow, my hero! and there are no doors by which you can escapethis time but those of hell."

"Oh! Porthos!" murmured the Comte de la Fere.

"Oh, pray, for mercy's sake, don't fly from me. For pity'ssake!" cried the young man, whose agony-drawn breath attimes, when his head went under water, under the wave,exhaled and made the icy waters bubble.

D'Artagnan, however, who had consulted with Aramis, spoke tothe poor wretch. "Go away," he said; "your repentance is toorecent to inspire confidence. See! the vessel in which youwished to fry us is still smoking; and the situation inwhich you are is a bed of roses compared to that in whichyou wished to place us and in which you have placed MonsieurGroslow and his companions."

"Sir!" replied Mordaunt, in a tone of deep despair, "mypenitence is sincere. Gentlemen, I am young, scarcelytwenty-three years old. I was drawn on by a very naturalresentment to avenge my mother. You would have done what Idid."

Mordaunt wanted now only two or three fathoms to reach theboat, for the approach of death seemed to give himsupernatural strength.

"Alas!" he said, "I am then to die? You are going to killthe son, as you killed the mother! Surely, if I am culpableand if I ask for pardon, I ought to be forgiven."

Then, as if his strength failed him, he seemed unable tosustain himself above the water and a wave passed over hishead, which drowned his voice.

"Oh! this is torture to me," cried Athos.

Mordaunt reappeared.

"For my part," said D'Artagnan, "I say this must come to anend; murderer, as you were, of your uncle! executioner, asyou were, of King Charles! incendiary! I recommend you tosink forthwith to the bottom of the sea; and if you comeanother fathom nearer, I'll stave your wicked head in withthis oar."

"D'Artagnan! D'Artagnan!" cried Athos, "my son, I entreatyou; the wretch is dying, and it is horrible to let a mandie without extending a hand to save him. I cannot resistdoing so; he must live."

"Zounds!" replied D'Artagnan, "why don't you give yourselfup directly, feet and hands bound, to that wretch? Ah! Comtede la Fere, you wish to perish by his hands! I, your son, asyou call me - I will not let you!"

'Twas the first time D'Artagnan had ever refused a requestfrom Athos.

Aramis calmly drew his sword, which he had carried betweenhis teeth as he swam.

"If he lays his hand on the boat's edge I will cut it off,regicide that he is."

"And I," said Porthos. "Wait."

"What are you going to do?" asked Aramis.

"Throw myself in the water and strangle him."

"Oh, gentlemen!" cried Athos, "be men! be Christians! See!death is depicted on his face! Ah! do not bring on me thehorrors of remorse! Grant me this poor wretch's life. I willbless you - I - - "

"I am dying!" cried Mordaunt, "come to me! come to me!"

D'Artagnan began to be touched. The boat at this momentturned around, and the dying man was by that turn broughtnearer Athos.

"Monsieur the Comte de la Fere," he cried, "I supplicateyou! pity me! I call on you - where are you? I see you nolonger - I am dying - help me! help me!"

"Here I am, sir!" said Athos, leaning and stretching out hisarm to Mordaunt with that air of dignity and nobility ofsoul habitual to him; "here I am, take my hand and jump intoour boat."

Mordaunt made a last effort - rose - seized the hand thusextended to him and grasped it with the vehemence ofdespair.

"That's right," said Athos; "put your other hand here. "Andhe offered him his shoulder as another stay and support, sothat his head almost touched that of Mordaunt; and these twomortal enemies were in as close an embrace as if they hadbeen brothers.

"Now, sir," said the count, "you are safe - calm yourself."

"Ah! my mother," cried Mordaunt, with eyes on fire with alook of hate impossible to paint, "I can only offer thee onevictim, but it shall at any rate be the one thou wouldstthyself have chosen!"

And whilst D'Artagnan uttered a cry, Porthos raised the oar,and Aramis sought a place to strike, a frightful shake givento the boat precipitated Athos into the sea; whilstMordaunt, with a shout of triumph, grasped the neck of hisvictim, and in order to paralyze his movements, twined armsand legs around the musketeer. For an instant, without anexclamation, without a cry for help, Athos tried to sustainhimself on the surface of the waters, but the weight draggedhim down; he disappeared by degrees; soon nothing was to beseen except his long, floating hair; then both mendisappeared and the bubbling of the water, which, in itsturn, was soon effaced, alone indicated the spot where thesetwo had sunk.

Mute with horror, the three friends had remainedopen-mouthed, their eyes dilated, their arms extended likestatues, and, motionless as they were, the beating of theirhearts was audible. Porthos was the first who came tohimself. He tore his hair.

"Oh!" he cried, "Athos! Athos! thou man of noble heart; woeis me! I have let thee perish!"

At this instant, in the midst of the silver circle illuminedby the light of the moon the same whirlpool which had beenmade by the sinking men was again obvious, and first wereseen, rising above the waves, a wisp of hair, then a paleface with open eyes, yet, nevertheless, the eyes of death;then a body, which, after rising of itself even to the waistabove the sea, turned gently on its back, according to thecaprice of the waves, and floated.

In the bosom of this corpse was plunged a poniard, the goldhilt of which shone in the moonbeams.

"Mordaunt! Mordaunt!" cried the three friends; "'tisMordaunt!"

"But Athos!" exclaimed D'Artagnan.

Suddenly the boat leaned on one side beneath a new andunexpected weight and Grimaud uttered a shout of joy; everyone turned around and beheld Athos, livid, his eyes dim andhis hands trembling, supporting himself on the edge of theboat. Eight vigorous arms lifted him up immediately and laidhim in the boat, where directly Athos was warmed andreanimated, reviving with the caresses and cares of hisfriends, who were intoxicated with joy.

"You are not hurt?" asked D'Artagnan.

"No," replied Athos; "and he - - "

"Oh, he! now we may say at last, thank Heaven! he is reallydead. Look!" and D'Artagnan, obliging Athos to look in thedirection he pointed, showed him the body of Mordauntfloating on its back, which, sometimes submerged, sometimesrising, seemed still to pursue the four friends with looksof insult and mortal hatred.

At last he sank. Athos had followed him with a glance inwhich the deepest melancholy and pity were expressed.

"Bravo! Athos!" cried Aramis, with an emotion very rare inhim.

"A capital blow you gave!" cried Porthos.

"I have a son. I wished to live," said Athos.

"In short," said D'Artagnan, "this has been the will ofGod."

"It was not I who killed him," said Athos in a soft, lowtone, "'twas destiny."