Chapter 42

Chapter XLII
Belle-Isle-en-Mer
At the extremity of the pier, upon the promenade which the furious sea beats at evening tide, two men, holding each other by the arm, were conversing in an animated and expansive tone, without the possibility of any other human being hearing their words, borne away, as they were, one by one, by the gusts of wind with the white foam swept from the crests of the waves. The sun had just gone down in the vast sheet of ocean, red like a gigantic crucible. From time to time, one of these men, turning towards the east, cast an anxious, inquiring look over the sea. The other, interrogating the features of his companion, seemed to seek for information in his looks. Then, both silent, both busied with dismal thoughts, they resumed their walk. Every one has already perceived that those two men were our proscribed heroes, Porthos and Aramis, who had taken refuge in Belle-Isle since the ruin of their hopes, since the discomfiture of the vast plan of M. d’Herblay.

“It is of no use your saying anything to the contrary, my dear Aramis,” repeated Porthos, inhaling vigorously the saline air with which he filled his powerful chest. “It is of no use, Aramis. The disappearance of all the fishing-boats that went out two days ago is not an ordinary circumstance. There has been no storm at sea; the weather has been constantly calm, not even the slightest gale; and even if we had had a tempest, all our boats would not have foundered. I repeat, it is strange. This complete disappearance astonishes me, I tell you.”

“True,” murmured Aramis. “You are right, friend Porthos; it is true, there is something strange in it.”

“And further,” added Porthos, whose ideas the assent of the Bishop of Vannes seemed to enlarge,- “and further, have you remarked that if the boats have perished, not a single plank has been washed ashore?”

“I have remarked that as well as you.”

“Have you remarked, besides, that the only two boats we had left in the whole island, and which I sent in search of the others-”

Aramis here interrupted his companion by a cry, and by so sudden a movement that Porthos stopped as if he were stupefied. “What do you say, Porthos? What! You have sent the two boats-”

“In search of the others. Yes; to be sure I have,” replied Porthos, quite simply.

“Unhappy man! What have you done? Then we are indeed lost,” cried the bishop.

“Lost! What did you say?” exclaimed the terrified Porthos. “How lost, Aramis? How are we lost?”

Aramis bit his lips. “Nothing! nothing! Your pardon, I meant to say-”

“What?”

“That if we were inclined- if we took a fancy to make an excursion by sea, we could