At daybreak D'Artagnan saddled Furet, who had faredsumptuously all night, devouring the remainder of the oatsand hay left by his companions. The musketeer sifted all hepossibly could out of the host, whom he found cunning,mistrustful, and devoted, body and soul, to M. Fouquet. Inorder not to awaken the suspicions of this man, he carriedon his fable of being a probable purchaser of somesalt-mines. To have embarked for Belle-Isle at Roche-Bernardwould have been to expose himself still further to commentswhich had, perhaps, been already made, and would be carriedto the castle. Moreover, it was singular that this travelerand his lackey should have remained a mystery to D'Artagnan,in spite of all the questions addressed by him to the host,who appeared to know him perfectly well. The musketeer thenmade some inquiries concerning the salt-mines, and took theroad to the marshes, leaving the sea on his right, andpenetrating into that vast and desolate plain whichresembles a sea of mud, of which, here and there, a fewcrests of salt silver the undulations. Furet walkedadmirably, with his little nervous legs, along the foot-widecauseways which separate the salt-mines. D'Artagnan, awareof the consequences of a fall, which would result in a coldbath, allowed him to go as he liked, contenting himself withlooking at, on the horizon, three rocks, that rose up likelance-blades from the bosom of the plain, destitute ofverdure. Pirial, the bourgs of Batz and Le Croisic, exactlyresembling each other, attracted and suspended hisattention. If the traveler turned round, the better to makehis observations, he saw on the other side an horizon ofthree other steeples, Guerande, Le Poulighen, andSaint-Joachim, which, in their circumference, represented aset of skittles, of which he and Furet were but thewandering ball. Pirial was the first little port on hisright. He went thither, with the names of the principalsalters on his lips. At the moment he reached the littleport of Pirial, five large barges, laden with stone, wereleaving it. It appeared strange to D'Artagnan, that stonesshould be leaving a country where none are found. He hadrecourse to all the amenity of M. Agnan to learn from thepeople of the port the cause of this singular arrangement.An old fisherman replied to M. Agnan, that the stones verycertainly did not come 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 assumedto tell the printer that his character interested him; "arethey building at Belle-Isle, then?"

"Why, yes, monsieur, M. Fouquet has the walls of the castlerepaired every year."

"Is it in ruins, then?"

"It is old."

"Thank you."

"The fact is," said D'Artagnan to himself, "nothing is morenatural; every proprietor has a right to repair his ownproperty. It would be like telling me I was fortifying theImage-de-Notre-Dame, when I was simply obliged to makerepairs. In good truth, I believe false reports have beenmade to his majesty, and he is very likely to be in thewrong."

"You must confess," continued he then, aloud, and addressingthe fisherman - for his part of a suspicious man wasimposed upon him by the object even of his mission - "youmust confess, my dear monsieur, that these stones travel ina very curious fashion."

"How so?" said the fisherman

"They come from Nantes or Painboeuf by the Loire, do theynot?"

"With the tide."

"That is convenient, - I don't say it is not, but why dothey not go straight from Saint-Nazaire to Belle-Isle?"

"Eh! because the chalands (barges) are fresh-water boats,and take the sea badly," replied, the fisherman.

"That is not sufficient reason."

"Pardon me, monsieur, one may see that you have never been asailor, added the fisherman, not without a sort of disdain.

"Explain that to me, if you please, my good man. It appearsto me that to come from Painboeuf to Pirial, and go fromPirial to Belle-Isle, is as if we went from Roche-Bernard toNantes, and from Nantes to Pirial."

"By water that would be the nearest way," replied thefisherman imperturbably.

"But there is an elbow?"

The fisherman shook his head.

"The shortest road from one place to another is a straightline," 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 barksalmost as far as Croisic. If they want to lie by a little,or to refresh the crew, they come to Pirial along the coast;from Pirial they find another inverse current, which carriesthem to the Isle-Dumal, two leagues and a half."

"Granted."

"There the current of the Vilaine throws them upon anotherisle, the isle of Hoedic."

"I agree with that."

"Well, monsieur, from that isle to Belle-Isle the way isquite straight. The sea broken both above and below, passeslike a canal - like a mirror between the two isles; thechalands glide along upon it like ducks upon the Loire;that's how it is."

"It does not signify," said the obstinate M. Agnan; "it is along way round."

"Ah! yes; but M. Fouquet will have it so," replied, asconclusive, the fisherman, taking off his woolen cap at theenunciation of that respected name.

A look from D'Artagnan, a look as keen and piercing as asword-blade, found nothing in the heart of the old man butsimple confidence - on his features, nothing butsatisfaction and indifference. He said, "M. Fouquet willhave 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 atPirial but a single bark - that of the old man, and it didnot look fit for sea without great preparation. D'Artagnantherefore patted Furet, who as a new proof of his charmingcharacter, resumed his march with his feet in thesalt-mines, and his nose to the dry wind, which bends thefurze and the broom of this country. They reached Croisicabout five o'clock.

If D'Artagnan had been a poet, it was a beautiful spectacle:the immense strand of a league or more, the sea covers athigh tide, and which, at the reflux, appears gray anddesolate, strewed with polypi and seaweed, with pebblessparse and white, like bones in some vast old cemetery. Butthe soldier, the politician, and the ambitious man, had nolonger the sweet consolation of looking towards heaven toread there a hope or a warning. A red sky signifies nothingto such people but wind and disturbance. White and fleecyclouds upon the azure only say that the sea will be smoothand peaceful. D'Artagnan found the sky blue, the breezeembalmed with saline perfumes, and he said: "I will embarkwith the first tide, if it be but in a nutshell."

At Croisic as at Pirial, he had remarked enormous heaps ofstone lying along the shore. These gigantic walls,diminished every tide by the barges for Belle-Isle were, inthe eyes of the musketeer, the consequence and the proof ofwhat he had well divined at Pirial. Was it a wall that M.Fouquet was constructing? Was it a fortification that he waserecting? To ascertain that he must make fullerobservations. D'Artagnan put Furet into a stable; supped,went to bed, and on the morrow took a walk upon the port orrather upon the shingle. Le Croisic has a port of fiftyfeet, it has a look-out which resembles an enormous brioche(a kind of cake) elevated on a dish. The flat strand is thedish. Hundreds of barrowsful of earth amalgamated withpebbles, and rounded into cones, with sinuous. passagesbetween, are look-outs and brioches at the same time.

It is so now, and it was so two hundred years ago, only thebrioche was not so large, and probably there were to be seenno trellises of lath around the brioche, which constitute anornament, planted like gardes-fous along the passages thatwind towards the little terrace. Upon the shingle loungedthree or four fishermen talking about sardines and 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 waitingfor the tide."

"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, forexample?"

"Yes, but they are a long way off, those isles, are theynot?"

"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 simplestupidity; four leagues off you lose sight of land, do younot?"

"Why, not always."

"Ah, it is a long way - too long, or else I would haveasked you to take me aboard, and to show me what I havenever 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 roundthe Parisian. "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 ofSaint-Mande, of Vaux, and his hotel in Paris."

"Is that a fine place?"

"Superb."

"It is not so fine a place as Belle-Isle," said thefisherman.

"Bah!" cried M. d'Artagnan, breaking into a laugh so loudthat he angered all his auditors.

"It is very plain that you have never seen Belle-Isle," saidthe most curious of the fishermen. "Do you know that thereare six leagues of it, and that there are such trees on itas cannot be equaled even at Nantes-sur-le-Fosse?"

"Trees in the sea!" cried D'Artagnan; "well, I should liketo see them."

"That can be easily done; we are fishing at the Isle deHoedic - come with us. From that place you will see, as aParadise, the black trees of Belle-Isle against the sky; youwill see the white line of the castle, which cuts thehorizon of the sea like a blade."

"Oh," said D'Artagnan, "that must be very beautiful. But doyou know there are a hundred belfries at M. Fouquet'schateau of Vaux?"

The Breton raised his head in profound admiration, but hewas not convinced. "A hundred belfries! Ah that may be, butBelle-Isle is finer than that. Should you like to seeBelle-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 inhis strong, pure language, "provided he means no harm toBelle-Isle or its master."

A slight shudder crept over the body of the musketeer.

"That is true," thought he. Then recovering himself, "If Iwere sure," said he, "not to be sea-sick."

"What, upon her?" said the fisherman, pointing with pride tohis pretty round-bottomed bark.

"Well, you almost persuade me," cried M. Agnan; "I will goand see Belle-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 builtto chase the Dutch and the English, and we sell our fish tothe crews of those little vessels."

"Come, come!" said D'Artagnan to himself - "better andbetter. A printing-press, bastions, and corsairs! Well, M.Fouquet is not an enemy to be despised, as I presumed tofancy. He is worth the trouble of traveling to see himnearer."

"We set out at half-past five," said the fisherman gravely.

"I am quite ready, and I will not leave you now." SoD'Artagnan saw the fishermen haul their barks to meet thetide with a windlass. The sea rose, M. Agnan allowed himselfto be hoisted on board, not without sporting a little fearand awkwardness, to the amusement of the young beach-urchinswho watched him with their large intelligent eyes. He laidhimself down upon a folded sail, not interfering withanything whilst the bark prepared for sea; and, with itslarge, square sail, it was fairly out within two hours. Thefishermen, who prosecuted their occupation as theyproceeded, did not perceive that their passenger had notbecome pale, neither groaned nor suffered; that in spite ofthat horrible tossing and rolling of the bark, to which nohand imparted direction, the novice passenger had preservedhis presence of mind and his appetite. They fished, andtheir fishing was sufficiently fortunate. To lines batedwith prawn, soles came, with numerous gambols, to bite. Twonets had already been broken by the immense weight ofcongers and haddocks; three sea-eels plowed the hold withtheir slimy folds and their dying contortions. D'Artagnanbrought them good luck; they told him so. The soldier foundthe occupation so pleasant, that he put his hand to the work- that is to say, to the lines - and uttered roars of joy,and mordioux enough to have astonished his musketeersthemselves every time that a shock given to his line by thecaptured fish required the play of the muscles of his arm,and the employment of his best dexterity. The party ofpleasure had made him forget his diplomatic mission. He wasstruggling with a very large conger, and holding fast withone hand to the side of the vessel, in order to seize withthe other the gaping jowl of his antagonist, when the mastersaid to him, "Take care they don't see you from Belle-Isle!"

These words produced the same effect upon D'Artagnan as thehissing of the first bullet on a day of battle; he let go ofboth line and conger, which, dragging each other, returnedagain to the water. D'Artagnan perceived, within half aleague at most, the blue and marked profile of the rocks ofBelle-Isle, dominated by the majestic whiteness of thecastle. In the distance, the land with its forests andverdant plains; cattle on the grass. This was what firstattracted the attention of the musketeer. The sun darted itsrays of gold upon the sea, raising a shining mist round thisenchanted isle. Little could be seen of it, owing to thisdazzling light, but the salient points; every shadow wasstrongly marked, and cut with bands of darkness the luminousfields and walls. "Eh! eh!" said D'Artagnan, at the aspectof those masses of black rocks, "these are fortificationswhich do not stand in need of any engineer to render alanding difficult. How the devil can a landing be effectedon that isle which God has defended so completely?"

"This way," replied the patron of the bark, changing thesail, and impressing upon the rudder a twist which turnedthe boat in the direction of a pretty little port, quitecoquettish, round, and newly battlemented.

"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 the fisherman, proudly. "Do you know that the leastgarrison is of twenty companies of infantry?"

"Mordioux!" cried D'Artagnan, stamping with his foot. "HisMajesty was right enough."

They landed.