“With all that, Aramis,” continued Porthos, who adhered to his idea, and that the more closely since the bishop had found it correct,- “with all that, you give me no explanation about what can have happened to these unfortunate boats. I am assailed by cries and complaints whichever way I go. The children cry at seeing the desolation of the women, as if I could restore the absent husbands and fathers. What do you suppose, my friend, and what ought I to answer them?”
“Suppose everything, my good Porthos, and say nothing.”
This reply did not satisfy Porthos at all. He turned away, and grumbled some words in a very ill humor. Aramis stopped the valiant soldier. “Do you remember,” said he, in a melancholy tone, pressing the two hands of the giant between his own with an affectionate cordiality, “do you remember, my friend, that in the glorious days of our youth- do you remember, Porthos, when we were all strong and valiant- we and the other two- if we had then had an inclination to return to France, do you think this sheet of salt water would have stopped us?”
“Oh!” said Porthos; “six leagues!”
“If you had seen me get astride of a plank, would you have remained on land, Porthos?”
“No, pardieu! No, Aramis. But nowadays what sort of a plank should we want, my friend,- I, in particular?” And the Seigneur de Bracieux cast a proud glance over his colossal rotundity, with a loud laugh. “And do you mean seriously to say that you are not a little tired of Belle-Isle also, and that you would not prefer the comforts of your dwelling,- of your episcopal palace at Vannes? Come, confess!”
“No,” replied Aramis, without daring to look at Porthos.
“Let us stay where we are then,” said his friend, with a sigh which in spite of the efforts he made to restrain it escaped with a loud report from his breast. “Let us remain! let us remain! And yet,” added he,- “and yet, if we seriously wished, but that decidedly, if we had a fixed idea, one firmly taken, to return to France, and there were no boats-”
“Have you remarked another thing, my friend?- that is, since the disappearance of our boats, during the two days’ absence of the fishermen, not a single small boat has landed on the shores of the isle?”
“Yes, certainly; you are right. I have remarked it also; and the observation was the more naturally made, for before the last two fatal days we saw boats and shallops arrive by dozens.”
“I must inquire,” said Aramis, suddenly, and with emphasis. “And then, if I had a raft constructed-”
“But there are some canoes, my friend; shall I go on board one?”
“A canoe! a canoe! Can you think of such a thing, Porthos? A canoe to be upset in! No, no,” said the Bishop of Vannes; “it is not our trade to ride upon the waves. We will wait; we will wait.”
And Aramis continued walking about with increased agitation. Porthos, who grew tired of following all the feverish movements of his friend; Porthos, who in his calmness and trust understood nothing of the sort of exasperation which was betrayed by the bishop’s continual convulsive starts,- Porthos stopped him. “Let us sit down upon this rock,” said he. “Place yourself there, close to me, Aramis, and I conjure you for the last time to explain to me in a manner I can comprehend,- explain to me what we are doing here.”
“Porthos!” said Aramis, much embarrassed.
“I know that the false king wished to dethrone the true king. That is a fact that I understand. Well-”
“Yes,” said Aramis.
“I know that the false king formed the project of selling Belle-Isle to the English. I understand that too.”
“Yes.”
“I know that we engineers and captains came and threw ourselves into Belle-Isle to take the direction of the works and the command of the ten companies levied and paid by M. Fouquet, or rather the ten companies of his son-in-law. All that is plain.”
Aramis arose in a state of great impatience. He might be said to be a lion importuned by a gnat. Porthos held him by the arm. “But what I cannot understand, what in spite of all the efforts of my mind and all my reflections I cannot comprehend and never shall comprehend, is, that instead of sending us troops, instead of sending us reinforcements of men, munitions, and provisions, they leave us without boats, they leave Belle-Isle without arrivals, without help; it is that instead of establishing with us a correspondence, whether by signals or written or verbal communications, they intercept all relations with us. Tell me, Aramis; answer me, or rather, before answering me, will you allow me to tell you what I have thought? Will you hear what my idea is, what imagination I have conceived?”