CHAPTER TWO

AN INSULT AND A CHALLENGE

On arriving at Meung, D'Artagnan dismounted at the "Jolly Miller". As he did so he noticed a stern-looking gentleman standing at a half-open window on the ground floor. He was talking to two other persons behind him in the room and they appeared to be listening to him with unusual respect. D'Artagnan naturally thought that he must be the object of the conversation, as the man looked steadily in his direction, and so he listened to what was being said.

In fact, he was only partly mistaken. The gentleman appeared to be discussing the horse's qualities, and the listeners broke frequently into fits of laughter. Now, as even a half-smile was sufficient to arouse the hasty temper of the young man, the effect produced upon him may easily be imagined.

Just at that moment the gentleman made a particularly humorous remark about the horse. The two others laughed even louder than before and he himself, though it seemed unusual, allowed a faint smile to appear on his face. This time there was no doubt; D'Artagnan had been insulted. Convinced of this, he advanced with one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other resting on his hip.

"I say, sir, you, sir, who are hiding yourself behind that shutter. Tell me what you are laughing at and we will laugh together."

The gentleman turned his eyes slowly from the horse to its master, as if he required some time to make sure whether it could possibly be to him that such remarks were being addressed. Then, when he could not possibly doubt the fact, he frowned, and with an insolent air replied to D'Artagnan, "I was not talking to you."

"But I am speaking to you!" replied the young man, made still more angry by this mixture of politeness and scorn.

The unknown looked at him again with a faint smile and left the window. Coming out of the inn, he placed himself before the horse within two paces of D'Artagnan.

"This horse is decidedly, or rather was in his youth, a buttercup," resumed the unknown. He addressed his remarks to the two men still at the window and completely ignored D'Artagnan. " It is a colour very well known among flowers, but until now very rare among horses."

"There are people who laugh at a horse, but would not dare to laugh at the master," cried the young man in his fury.

"I do not often laugh, sir," said the unknown, "as you may have noticed, but nevertheless, I laugh when it pleases me to do so."

"And I," cried D'Artagnan, "will allow no man to laugh when it displeases me."

"Is that so, sir?" continued the gentleman calmly. He turned on his heel to re-enter the inn.

"Turn! Turn, Mr. Joker, or I will strike you from behind!"

"Strike me!" said the other, turning and looking at the young man with as much astonishment as scorn. "Why! My good fellow, you must be mad." Then, in a low tone as if speaking to himself. "This is most annoying."

He had hardly finished when D'Artagnan made a furious attack. If the gentleman had not sprung quickly backward, it is probable that he would have joked for the last time. Then, seeing that the youth was really serious, the unknown drew his sword, and placed himself on guard. But at the same moment the two from the inn, together with the innkeeper, fell upon D'Artagnan with heavy sticks. When D'Artagnan turned round to face this shower of blows, the unknown calmly sheathed his sword, and, instead of being actively engaged in a fight, he became a spectator.

He remained cool and undisturbed, muttering nevertheless to himself, "Curse these Gascons! Put him on his yellow horse and send him away."

"Not before I have killed you, coward!" cried D'Artagnan bravely. He stood his ground before his three assailants, who continued to shower blows upon him.

"By my honour," murmured the gentleman, "these Gascons are hot-headed! Keep up the dance then, since that seems to be what he wants. When he is tired, he will perhaps say that he has had enough of it."

But the unknown did not know the determined person with whom he had to deal. D'Artagnan was not the man ever to cry for quarter. The fight therefore continued for a few more moments until D'Artagnan dropped his sword, which was broken in two by a blow from a stick. Another blow upon his now defenceless head brought him to the ground, covered with blood and almost fainting.

It was at this moment the people came crowding to the scene from all sides. Fearful of consequences, the innkeeper carried the wounded man into the kitchen, where he ordered his wounds to be washed and bandaged.