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Vannes. He looked in vain to observe if anybody saw him; he
could discern neither thing nor person. He engaged a little
fishing boat for twenty-five livres, and set off at
half-past eleven, convinced that he had not been followed;
and that was true, he had not been followed; only a Jesuit
brother, placed in the top of the steeple of his church, had
not, since the morning, by the help of an excellent glass,
lost sight of one of his steps. At three-quarters past
eleven, Aramis was informed that D’Artagnan was sailing
towards Belle-Isle. The voyage was rapid; a good north
north-east wind drove him towards the isle. As he
approached, his eyes were constantly fixed upon the coast.
He looked to see if, upon the shore or upon the
fortifications the brilliant dress and vast stature of
Porthos should stand out against a slightly clouded sky; but
his search was vain. He landed without having seen anything;
and learnt from the first soldier interrogated by him, that
M. du Vallon had not yet returned from Vannes. Then, without
losing an instant, D’Artagnan ordered his little bark to put
its head towards Sarzeau. We know that the wind changes with
the different hours of the day. The breeze had veered from
the north north-east to the south-east: the wind, then, was
almost as good for the return to Sarzeau, as it had been for
the voyage to Belle-Isle. In three hours D’Artagnan had
touched the continent, two hours more sufficed for his ride
to Vannes. In spite of the rapidity of his passage, what
D’Artagnan endured of impatience and anger during that short
passage, the deck alone of the vessel, upon which he stamped
backwards and forwards for three hours, could testify. He
made but one bound from the quay whereon he landed to the
episcopal palace. He thought to terrify Aramis by the
promptitude of his return; he wished to reproach him with
his duplicity, and yet with reserve; but with sufficient
spirit, nevertheless, to make him feel all the consequences
of it, and force from him a part of his secret He hoped, in
short — thanks to that heat of expression which is to
secrets what the charge with the bayonet is to redoubts —
to bring the mysterious Aramis to some manifestation or
other. But he found, in the vestibule of the palace, the
valet de chambre, who closed the passage, while smiling upon
him with a stupid air.
“Monseigneur?” cried D’Artagnan, endeavoring to put him
aside with his hand. Moved for an instant the valet resumed
his station.
“Monseigneur?” said he.
“Yes, to be sure; do you not know me, imbecile?”
“Yes, you are the Chevalier d’Artagnan.”
“Then let me pass.”
“It is of no use.”
“Why of no use?”
“Because His Greatness is not at home.”
“What! His Greatness is not at home? where is he then?”
“Gone.”
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“Gone?”
“Yes.”
“Whither?”
“I don’t know; but perhaps he tells monsieur le chevalier.”
“And how? where? in what fashion?”
“In this letter, which he gave me for monsieur le
chevalier.” And the valet de chambre drew a letter from his
pocket.
“Give it me, then, you rascal,” said D’Artagnan, snatching
it from his hand. “Oh, yes,” continued he, at the first
line, “yes, I understand; “and he read: —
“Dear Friend, — An affair of the most urgent nature calls
me to a distant parish of my diocese. I hoped to see you
again before I set out; but I lose that hope in thinking
that you are going, no doubt, to remain two or three days at
Belle-Isle, with our dear Porthos. Amuse yourself as well as
you can; but do not attempt to hold out against him at
table. This is a counsel I might have given even to Athos,
in his most brilliant and best days. Adieu, dear friend;
believe that I regret greatly not having better, and for a
longer time, profited by your excellent company.”
“Mordioux!” cried D’Artagnan. “I am tricked. Ah! blockhead,
brute, triple fool that I am! But those laugh best who laugh