The passage from Belle-Isle to Sarzeau was made rapidlyenough, thanks to one of those little corsairs of whichD'Artagnan had been told during his voyage, and which,shaped for fast sailing and destined for the chase, weresheltered at that time in the roadstead of Loc-Maria, whereone of them, with a quarter of its war-crew, performed dutybetween Belle-Isle and the continent. D'Artagnan had anopportunity of convincing himself that Porthos, thoughengineer and topographer, was not deeply versed in affairsof state. His perfect ignorance, with any other, might havepassed for well-informed dissimulation. But D'Artagnan knewtoo well all the folds and refolds of his Porthos, not tofind a secret if there were one there; like those regular,minute old bachelors, who know how to find, with their eyesshut, each book on the shelves of their library and eachpiece of linen in their wardrobe. So if he had foundnothing, our cunning D'Artagnan, in rolling and unrollinghis Porthos, it was because, in truth, there was nothing tobe found.

"Be it so," said D'Artagnan, "I shall get to know more atVannes in half an hour than Porthos has discovered atBelle-Isle in two months. Only, in order that I may knowsomething, it is important that Porthos should not make useof the only stratagem I leave at his disposal. He must notwarn Aramis of my arrival." All the care of the musketeerwas then, for the moment, confined to the watching ofPorthos. And let us hasten to say, Porthos did not deserveall this mistrust. Porthos thought of no evil. Perhaps, onfirst seeing him, D'Artagnan had inspired him with a littlesuspicion, but almost immediately D'Artagnan had reconqueredin that good and brave heart the place he had alwaysoccupied, and not the least cloud darkened the large eye ofPorthos, fixed from time to time with tenderness on hisfriend.

On landing, Porthos inquired if his horses were waiting, andsoon perceived them at the crossing of the road that windsround Sarzeau, and which, without passing through thatlittle city, leads towards Vannes. These horses were two innumber, one for M. de Vallon, and one for his equerry; forPorthos had an equerry since Mouston was only able to use acarriage as a means of locomotion. D'Artagnan expected thatPorthos would propose to send forward his equerry upon onehorse to bring back another, and he - D'Artagnan - hadmade up his mind to oppose this proposition. But nothingD'Artagnan had expected happened. Porthos simply told theequerry to dismount and await his return at Sarzeau, whilstD'Artagnan would ride his horse; which was arranged.

"Eh! but you are quite a man of precaution, my dearPorthos," said D'Artagnan to his friend, when he foundhimself in the saddle, upon the equerry's horse.

"Yes, but this is a kindness on the part of Aramis. I havenot my stud here, and Aramis has placed his stables at mydisposal."

"Good horses for bishop's horses, mordioux!" saidD'Artagnan. "It is true, Aramis is a bishop of a peculiarkind."

"He is a holy man!" replied Porthos, in a tone almost nasal,and with his eyes raised towards heaven.

"Then he is much changed," said D'Artagnan; "you and I haveknown him passably profane."

"Grace has touched him," said Porthos.

"Bravo," said D'Artagnan, "that redoubles my desire to seemy dear old friend." And he spurred his horse, which sprangoff into a more rapid pace.

"Peste!" said Porthos, "if we go on at this rate, we shallonly take one hour instead of two."

"To go how far, do you say, Porthos?"

"Four leagues and a half."

"That will be a good pace."

"I could have embarked you on the canal, but the devil takerowers and boat-horses! The first are like tortoises; thesecond like snails; and when a man is able to put a goodhorse between his knees, that horse is better than rowers orany other means."

"You are right; you above all, Porthos, who always lookmagnificent on horseback."

"Rather heavy, my friend; I was weighed the other day."

"And what do you weigh?"

"Three hundred-weight!" said Porthos, proudly.

"Bravo!"

"So that you must perceive, I am forced to choose horseswhose loins are straight and wide, otherwise I break themdown in two hours."

"Yes, giant's horses you must have, must you not?"

"You are very polite, my friend," replied the engineer, withaffectionate majesty.

"As a case in point," replied D'Artagnan, "your horse seemsto sweat already."

"Dame! It is hot! Ah, ah! do you see Vannes now?"

"Yes, perfectly. It is a handsome city, apparently."

"Charming, according to Aramis, at least, but I think itblack; but black seems to be considered handsome by artists:I am sorry for it."

"Why so, Porthos?"

"Because I have lately had my chateau of Pierrefonds whichwas gray with age, plastered white."

"Humph!" said D'Artagnan, "and white is more cheerful."

"Yes, but it is less august, as Aramis tells me. Fortunatelythere are dealers in black as well as white. I will havePierrefonds replastered in black; that's all there is aboutit. If gray is handsome, you understand, my friend, blackmust be superb."

"Dame!" said D'Artagnan, "that appears logical."

"Were you never at Vannes, D'Artagnan?"

"Never."

"Then you know nothing of the city?"

"Nothing."

"Well, look!" said Porthos, raising himself in his stirrups,which made the fore-quarters of his horse bend sadly - "doyou see that corner, in the sun, yonder?"

"Yes, I see it plainly."

"Well, that is the cathedral."

"Which is called?"

"Saint-Pierre. Now look again - in the faubourg on theleft, do you see another cross?"

"Perfectly well."

"That is Saint-Paterne, the parish preferred by Aramis."

"Indeed!"

"Without doubt. Saint-Paterne, you see, passes for havingbeen the first bishop of Vannes. It is true that Aramispretends he was not. But he is so learned that that may beonly a paro - a para - -"

"A paradox," said D'Artagnan.

"Precisely; thank you! my tongue trips, I am so hot."

"My friend," said D'Artagnan, "continue your interestingdescription, I beg. What is that large white building withmany windows?"

"Oh! that is the college of the Jesuits. Pardieu! you havean apt hand. Do you see, close to the college, a large housewith steeples, turrets, built in a handsome Gothic style, asthat fool, M. Getard, says?"

"Yes, that is plainly to be seen. Well?"

"Well, that is where Aramis resides."

"What! does he not reside at the episcopal palace?"

"No, that is in ruins. The palace likewise is in the city,and Aramis prefers the faubourgs. That is why, as I toldyou, he is partial to Saint-Paterne; Saint-Paterne is in thefaubourg. Besides, there are in this faubourg a mall, atennis-court, and a house of Dominicans. Look, that wherethe handsome steeple rises to the heavens."

"Well?"

"Next, you see the faubourg is like a separate city, it hasits walls, its towers, its ditches; the quay is upon itlikewise, and the boats land at the quay. If our littlecorsair did not draw eight feet of water, we could have comefull sail up to Aramis's windows."

"Porthos, Porthos," cried D'Artagnan, "you are a well ofknowledge, a spring of ingenious and profound reflections.Porthos, you no longer surprise me, you confound me."

"Here we are," said Porthos, turning the conversation withhis usual modesty.

"And high time we were," thought D'Artagnan, "for Aramis'shorse is melting away like a steed of ice."

They entered almost at the same instant the faubourg; butscarcely had they gone a hundred paces when they weresurprised to find the streets strewed with leaves andflowers. Against the old walls of Vannes hung the oldest andthe strangest tapestries of France. From over balconies felllong white sheets stuck all over with bouquets. The streetswere deserted; it was plain the entire population wasassembled on one point. The blinds were closed, and thebreeze penetrated into the houses under the hangings, whichcast long, black shades between their places of issue andthe walls. Suddenly, at the turning of a street, chantsstruck the ears of the newly arrived travelers. A crowd inholiday garb appeared through the vapors of incense whichmounted to the heavens in blue fleeces, and clouds ofrose-leaves fluttered as high as the first stories. Aboveall heads were to be seen the cross and banners, the sacredsymbols of religion. Then, beneath these crosses andbanners, as if protected by them, walked a whole world ofyoung girls clothed in white, crowned with corn-flowers. Atthe two sides of the street, inclosing the cortege, marchedthe guards of the garrison, carrying bouquets in the barrelsof their muskets and on the points of their lances. This wasthe procession.

Whilst D'Artagnan and Porthos were looking on with criticalglances, which disguised an extreme impatience to getforward, a magnificent dais approached preceded by a hundredJesuits and a hundred Dominicans, and escorted by twoarchdeacons, a treasurer, a penitent and twelve canons. Asinger with a thundering voice - a man certainly picked outfrom all the voices of France, as was the drum-major of theimperial guard from all the giants of the empire - escortedby four other chanters, who appeared to be there only toserve him as an accompaniment, made the air resound, and thewindows of the houses vibrate. Under the dais appeared apale and noble countenance with black eyes, black hairstreaked with threads of white, a delicate, compressedmouth, a prominent and angular chin. His head, full ofgraceful majesty, was covered with the episcopal mitre, aheaddress which gave it, in addition to the character ofsovereignty, that of asceticism and evangelic meditation.

"Aramis!" cried the musketeer, involuntarily, as this loftycountenance passed before him. The prelate started at thesound of the voice. He raised his large black eyes, withtheir long lashes, and turned them without hesitationtowards the spot whence the exclamation proceeded. At aglance, he saw Porthos and D'Artagnan close to him. On hispart, D'Artagnan, thanks to the keenness of his sight, hadseen all, seized all. The full portrait of the prelate hadentered his memory, never to leave it. One thing hadparticularly struck D'Artagnan. On perceiving him, Aramishad colored, then he had concentrated under his eyelids thefire of the look of the master, and the indefinableaffection of the friend. It was evident that Aramis hadasked himself this question: - "Why is D'Artagnan withPorthos, and what does he want at Vannes?" Aramiscomprehended all that was passing in the mind of D'Artagnan,on turning his look upon him again, and seeing that he hadnot lowered his eyes. He knew the acuteness and intelligenceof his friend, he feared to let him divine the secret of hisblush and his astonishment. He was still the same Aramis,always having a secret to conceal. Therefore, to put an endto his look of an inquisitor which it was necessary to getrid of at all events, as, at any price, a generalextinguishes a battery which annoys him, Aramis stretchedforth his beautiful white hand, upon which sparkled theamethyst of the pastoral ring; he cut the air with sign ofthe cross, and poured out his benediction upon his twofriends. Perhaps thoughtful and absent, D'Artagnan, impiousin spite of himself, might not have bent beneath this holybenediction; but Porthos saw his distraction, and laying hisfriendly hand upon the back of his companion, he crushed himdown towards the earth. D'Artagnan was forced to give way;indeed, he was little short of being flat on the ground. Inthe meantime Aramis had passed. D'Artagnan, like Antaeus,had only touched the ground, and he turned towards Porthos,almost angry. But there was no mistaking the intention ofthe brave Hercules; it was a feeling of religious proprietythat had influenced him. Besides, speech with Porthos,instead of disguising his thought, always completed it.

"It is very polite of him," said he, "to have given hisbenediction to us alone. Decidedly, he is a holy man, and abrave man." Less convinced than Porthos, D'Artagnan made noreply.

"Observe, my friend," continued Porthos, "he has seen us;and, instead of continuing to walk on at the simple pace ofthe procession, as he did just now, - see, what a hurry heis in; do you see how the cortege is increasing its speed?He is eager to join us and embrace us, is that dear Aramis."

"That is true," replied D'Artagnan, aloud. - Then tohimself: - "It is equally true he has seen me, the fox, andwill have time to prepare himself to receive me."

But the procession had passed; the road was free. D'Artagnanand Porthos walked straight up to the episcopal palace,which was surrounded by a numerous crowd anxious to see theprelate return. D'Artagnan remarked that this crowd wascomposed principally of citizens and military men. Herecognized in the nature of these partisans the address ofhis friend. Aramis was not the man to seek for a uselesspopularity. He cared very little for being beloved by peoplewho could be of no service to him. Women, children, and oldmen, that is to say, the cortege of ordinary pastors, wasnot the cortege for him.

Ten minutes after the two friends had passed the thresholdof the palace, Aramis returned like a triumphant conqueror;the soldiers presented arms to him as to a superior; thecitizens bowed to him as to a friend and a patron, ratherthan as a head of the Church. There was something in Aramisresembling those Roman senators who had their doors alwayssurrounded by clients. At the foot of the prison, he had aconference of half a minute with a Jesuit, who, in order tospeak to him more secretly, passed his head under the dais.He then re-entered his palace; the doors closed slowly, andthe crowd melted away, whilst chants and prayers were stillresounding abroad. It was a magnificent day. Earthlyperfumes were mingled with the perfumes of the air and thesea. The city breathed happiness, joy, and strength.D'Artagnan felt something like the presence of an invisiblehand which had, all-powerfully, created this strength, thisjoy, this happiness, and spread everywhere these perfumes.

"Oh! oh!" said he, "Porthos has got fat; but Aramis is growntaller."