At daybreak D'Artagnan saddled Furet, who had fared sumptuouslyall night, devouring the remainder of the oats and hay left by hiscompanions. The musketeer sifted all he possibly could out of the host,whom he found cunning, mistrustful, and devoted, body and soul, to M.Fouquet. In order not to awaken the suspicions of this man, he carriedon his fable of being a probable purchaser of some salt-mines. To haveembarked for Belle-Isle at Roche-Bernard would have been to exposehimself still further to comments which had, perhaps, been already made,and would be carried to the castle. Moreover, it was singular that thistraveler and his lackey should have remained a mystery to D'Artagnan, inspite of all the questions addressed by him to the host, who appearedto know him perfectly well. The musketeer then made some inquiriesconcerning the salt-mines, and took the road to the marshes, leavingthe sea on his right, and penetrating into that vast and desolate plainwhich resembles a sea of mud, of which, here and there, a few crestsof salt silver the undulations. Furet walked admirably, with hislittle nervous legs, along the foot-wide causeways which separate thesalt-mines. D'Artagnan, aware of the consequences of a fall, which wouldresult in a cold bath, allowed him to go as he liked, contentinghimself with looking at, on the horizon, three rocks, that rose up likelance-blades from the bosom of the plain, destitute of verdure. Pirial,the bourgs of Batz and Le Croisic, exactly resembling each other,attracted and suspended his attention. If the traveler turned round, thebetter to make his observations, he saw on the other side an horizon ofthree other steeples, Guerande, Le Poulighen, and Saint-Joachim, which,in their circumference, represented a set of skittles, of which he andFuret were but the wandering ball. Pirial was the first little port onhis right. He went thither, with the names of the principal salters onhis lips. At the moment he reached the little port of Pirial, fivelarge barges, laden with stone, were leaving it. It appeared strangeto D'Artagnan, that stones should be leaving a country where none arefound. He had recourse to all the amenity of M. Agnan to learn fromthe people of the port the cause of this singular arrangement. An oldfisherman replied to M. Agnan, that the stones very certainly did notcome from Pirial or the marshes.
"Where do they come from, then?" asked the musketeer.
"Monsieur, they come from Nantes and Painboeuf."
"Where are they going, then?"
"Monsieur, to Belle-Isle."
"Ah! ah!" said D'Artagnan, in the same tone he had assumed to tellthe printer that his character interested him; "are they building atBelle-Isle, then?"
"Why, yes, monsieur, M. Fouquet has the walls of the castle repairedevery year."
"Is it in ruins, then?"
"It is old."
"Thank you."
"The fact is," said D'Artagnan to himself, "nothing is more natural;every proprietor has a right to repair his own property. It would belike telling me I was fortifying the Image-de-Notre-Dame, when I wassimply obliged to make repairs. In good truth, I believe false reportshave been made to his majesty, and he is very likely to be in thewrong."
"You must confess," continued he then, aloud, and addressing thefisherman--for his part of a suspicious man was imposed upon him by theobject even of his mission--"you must confess, my dear monsieur, thatthese stones travel in a very curious fashion."
"How so?" said the fisherman
"They come from Nantes or Painboeuf by the Loire, do they not?"
"With the tide."
"That is convenient,--I don't say it is not, but why do they not gostraight from Saint-Nazaire to Belle-Isle?"
"Eh! because the chalands (barges) are fresh-water boats, and take thesea badly," replied, the fisherman.
"That is not sufficient reason."
"Pardon me, monsieur, one may see that you have never been a sailor,added the fisherman, not without a sort of disdain.
"Explain that to me, if you please, my good man. It appears to me thatto come from Painboeuf to Pirial, and go from Pirial to Belle-Isle, isas if we went from Roche-Bernard to Nantes, and from Nantes to Pirial."
"By water that would be the nearest way," replied the fishermanimperturbably.
"But there is an elbow?"
The fisherman shook his head.
"The shortest road from one place to another is a straight line,"continued D'Artagnan.
"You forget the tide, monsieur."
"Well! take the tide."
"And the wind."
"Well, and the wind."
"Without doubt, the current of the Loire carries barks almost as far asCroisic. If they want to lie by a little, or to refresh the crew, theycome to Pirial along the coast; from Pirial they find another inversecurrent, which carries them to the Isle-Dumal, two leagues and a half."
"Granted."
"There the current of the Vilaine throws them upon another isle, theisle of Hoedic."
"I agree with that."
"Well, monsieur, from that isle to Belle-Isle the way is quite straight.The sea broken both above and below, passes like a canal--like a mirrorbetween the two isles; the chalands glide along upon it like ducks uponthe Loire; that's how it is."
"It does not signify," said the obstinate M. Agnan; "it is a long wayround."
"Ah! yes; but M. Fouquet will have it so," replied, as conclusive,the fisherman, taking off his woolen cap at the enunciation of thatrespected name.
A look from D'Artagnan, a look as keen and piercing as a sword-blade,found nothing in the heart of the old man but simple confidence--onhis features, nothing but satisfaction and indifference. He said, "M.Fouquet will have it so," as he would have said, "God has willed it."
D'Artagnan had already advanced too far in this direction; besides,the chalands being gone, there remained nothing at Pirial but a singlebark--that of the old man, and it did not look fit for sea without greatpreparation. D'Artagnan therefore patted Furet, who as a new proofof his charming character, resumed his march with his feet in thesalt-mines, and his nose to the dry wind, which bends the furze and thebroom of this country. They reached Croisic about five o'clock.
If D'Artagnan had been a poet, it was a beautiful spectacle: the immensestrand of a league or more, the sea covers at high tide, and which, atthe reflux, appears gray and desolate, strewed with polypi and seaweed,with pebbles sparse and white, like bones in some vast old cemetery. Butthe soldier, the politician, and the ambitious man, had no longer thesweet consolation of looking towards heaven to read there a hope ora warning. A red sky signifies nothing to such people but wind anddisturbance. White and fleecy clouds upon the azure only say that thesea will be smooth and peaceful. D'Artagnan found the sky blue, thebreeze embalmed with saline perfumes, and he said: "I will embark withthe first tide, if it be but in a nutshell."
At Croisic as at Pirial, he had remarked enormous heaps of stone lyingalong the shore. These gigantic walls, diminished every tide bythe barges for Belle-Isle were, in the eyes of the musketeer, theconsequence and the proof of what he had well divined at Pirial. Was ita wall that M. Fouquet was constructing? Was it a fortification thathe was erecting? To ascertain that he must make fuller observations.D'Artagnan put Furet into a stable; supped, went to bed, and on themorrow took a walk upon the port or rather upon the shingle. Le Croisichas a port of fifty feet, it has a look-out which resembles an enormousbrioche (a kind of cake) elevated on a dish. The flat strand is thedish. Hundreds of barrowsful of earth amalgamated with pebbles, androunded into cones, with sinuous passages between, are look-outs andbrioches at the same time.
It is so now, and it was so two hundred years ago, only the brioche wasnot so large, and probably there were to be seen no trellises oflath around the brioche, which constitute an ornament, planted likegardes-fous along the passages that wind towards the little terrace.Upon the shingle lounged three or four fishermen talking about sardinesand shrimps. D'Artagnan, with his eyes animated by rough gayety, and asmile upon his lips, approached these fishermen.
"Any fishing going on to-day?" said he.
"Yes, monsieur," replied one of them, "we are only waiting for thetide."
br /> "Where do you fish, my friends?"
"Upon the coasts, monsieur."
"Which are the best coasts?"
"Ah, that is all according. The tour of the isles, for example?"
"Yes, but they are a long way off, those isles, are they not?"
"Not very; four leagues."
"Four leagues! That is a voyage."
The fisherman laughed in M. Agnan's face.
"Hear me, then," said the latter with an air of simple stupidity; fourleagues off you lose sight of land, do you not?"
"Why, not always."
"Ah, it is a long way--too long, or else I would have asked you to takeme aboard, and to show me what I have never seen."
"What is that?"
"A live sea-fish."
"Monsieur comes from the province?" said a fisherman.
"Yes, I come from Paris."
The Breton shrugged his shoulders; then:
"Have you ever seen M. Fouquet in Paris?" asked he.
"Often," replied D'Artagnan.
"Often!" repeated the fishermen, closing their circle round theParisian. "Do you know him?"
"A little, he is the intimate friend of my master."
"Ah!" said the fisherman, in astonishment.
"And," said D'Artagnan, "I have seen all his chateaux of Saint-Mande, ofVaux, and his hotel in Paris."
"Is that a fine place?"
"Superb."
"It is not so fine a place as Belle-Isle," said the fisherman.
"Bah!" cried M. d'Artagnan, breaking into a laugh so loud that heangered all his auditors.
"It is very plain that you have never seen Belle-Isle," said the mostcurious of the fishermen. "Do you know that there are six leagues ofit, and that there are such trees on it as cannot be equaled even atNantes-sur-le-Fosse?"
"Trees in the sea!" cried D'Artagnan; "well, I should like to see them."
"That can be easily done; we are fishing at the Isle de Hoedic--comewith us. From that place you will see, as a Paradise, the black trees ofBelle-Isle against the sky; you will see the white line of the castle,which cuts the horizon of the sea like a blade."
"Oh," said D'Artagnan, "that must be very beautiful. But do you knowthere are a hundred belfries at M. Fouquet's chateau of Vaux?"
The Breton raised his head in profound admiration, but he was notconvinced. "A hundred belfries! Ah that may be, but Belle-Isle is finerthan that. Should you like to see Belle-Isle?"
"Is that possible?" asked D'Artagnan.
"Yes, with permission of the governor."
"But I do not know the governor."
"As you know M. Fouquet, you can tell your name."
"Oh, my friends, I am not a gentleman."
"Everybody enters Belle-Isle," continued the fisherman in his strong,pure language, "provided he means no harm to Belle-Isle or its master."
A slight shudder crept over the body of the musketeer.
"That is true," thought he. Then recovering himself, "If I were sure,"said he, "not to be sea-sick."
"What, upon her?" said the fisherman, pointing with pride to his prettyround-bottomed bark.
"Well, you almost persuade me," cried M. Agnan; "I will go and seeBelle-Isle, but they will not admit me."
"We shall enter, safe enough."
"You! What for?"
"Why, dame! to sell fish to the corsairs."
"Ha! Corsairs--what do you mean?"
"Well, I mean that M. Fouquet is having two corsairs built to chase theDutch and the English, and we sell our fish to the crews of those littlevessels."
"Come, come!" said D'Artagnan to himself--"better and better. Aprinting-press, bastions, and corsairs! Well, M. Fouquet is not anenemy to be despised, as I presumed to fancy. He is worth the trouble oftraveling to see him nearer."
"We set out at half-past five," said the fisherman gravely.
"I am quite ready, and I will not leave you now." So D'Artagnan saw thefishermen haul their barks to meet the tide with a windlass. The searose, M. Agnan allowed himself to be hoisted on board, not withoutsporting a little fear and awkwardness, to the amusement of the youngbeach-urchins who watched him with their large intelligent eyes. He laidhimself down upon a folded sail, not interfering with anything whilstthe bark prepared for sea; and, with its large, square sail, it wasfairly out within two hours. The fishermen, who prosecuted theiroccupation as they proceeded, did not perceive that their passenger hadnot become pale, neither groaned nor suffered; that in spite of thathorrible tossing and rolling of the bark, to which no hand imparteddirection, the novice passenger had preserved his presence of mind andhis appetite. They fished, and their fishing was sufficiently fortunate.To lines bated with prawn, soles came, with numerous gambols, to bite.Two nets had already been broken by the immense weight of congers andhaddocks; three sea-eels plowed the hold with their slimy folds andtheir dying contortions. D'Artagnan brought them good luck; they toldhim so. The soldier found the occupation so pleasant, that he put hishand to the work--that is to say, to the lines--and uttered roars ofjoy, and mordioux enough to have astonished his musketeers themselvesevery time that a shock given to his line by the captured fish requiredthe play of the muscles of his arm, and the employment of his bestdexterity. The party of pleasure had made him forget his diplomaticmission. He was struggling with a very large conger, and holding fastwith one hand to the side of the vessel, in order to seize with theother the gaping jowl of his antagonist, when the master said to him,"Take care they don't see you from Belle-Isle!"
These words produced the same effect upon D'Artagnan as the hissing ofthe first bullet on a day of battle; he let go of both line and conger,which, dragging each other, returned again to the water. D'Artagnanperceived, within half a league at most, the blue and marked profileof the rocks of Belle-Isle, dominated by the majestic whiteness of thecastle. In the distance, the land with its forests and verdant plains;cattle on the grass. This was what first attracted the attention ofthe musketeer. The sun darted its rays of gold upon the sea, raisinga shining mist round this enchanted isle. Little could be seen of it,owing to this dazzling light, but the salient points; every shadow wasstrongly marked, and cut with bands of darkness the luminous fields andwalls. "Eh! eh!" said D'Artagnan, at the aspect of those masses ofblack rocks, "these are fortifications which do not stand in need of anyengineer to render a landing difficult. How the devil can a landing beeffected on that isle which God has defended so completely?"
"This way," replied the patron of the bark, changing the sail, andimpressing upon the rudder a twist which turned the boat in thedirection of a pretty little port, quite coquettish, round, and newlybattlemented.
"What the devil do I see yonder?" said D'Artagnan.
"You see Leomaria," replied the fisherman.
"Well, but there?"
"That is Bragos."
"And further on?"
"Sanger, and then the palace."
"Mordioux! It is a world. Ah! there are some soldiers."
"There are seventeen hundred men in Belle-Isle, monsieur," replied thefisherman, proudly. "Do you know that the least garrison is of twentycompanies of infantry?"
"Mordioux!" cried D'Artagnan, stamping with his foot. "His Majesty wasright enough."
They landed.
CHAPTER 69. In which the Reader, no doubt, will be as astonished asD'Artagnan was to meet an Old Acquaintance