“Bah!” cried M. d’Artagnan, breaking into a laugh so loud that he angered all his auditors.
“It is very plain that you have never seen Belle-Isle,” said the most curious of the fishermen. “Do you know that there are six leagues of it, and that there are such trees on it as cannot be equaled even at Nates-sur-le-Fosse?”
“Trees in the sea!” cried D’Artagnan; “well, I should like to see them.”
“That can be easily done; we are fishing at the Isle de Hoedic—come with us. From that place you will see, as a Paradise, the black trees of Belle-Isle against the sky; you will see the white line of the castle, which cuts the horizon of the sea like a blade.”
“Oh,” said D’Artagnan, “that must be very beautiful. But do you know there are a hundred belfries at M. Fouquet’s chateau of Vaux?”
The Breton raised his head in profound admiration, but he was not convinced. “A hundred belfries! Ah, that may be; but Belle-Isle is finer than that. Should you like to see Belle-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.”