His mocking laugh and threatening words passed over their heads, carried by the breeze, until lost in the depths of the horizon. Aramis shuddered.
“Be calm,” exclaimed Athos, “for Heaven’s sake! have we ceased to be men?”
“No,” said Aramis, “but that fellow is a fiend; and ask the uncle whether I was wrong to rid him of his dear nephew.”
De Winter only replied by a groan.
“It was all up with him,” continued Aramis; “ah I much fear that with all your wisdom such mercy yet will prove supernal folly.”
Athos took Lord de Winter’s hand and tried to turn the conversation.
“When shall we land in England?” he asked; but De Winter seemed not to hear his words and made no reply.
“Hold, Athos,” said Aramis, “perhaps there is yet time. See if he is still in the same place.”
Athos turned around with an effort; the sight of the young man was evidently painful to him, and there he still was, in fact, on the rock, the beacon shedding around him, as it were, a doubtful aureole.
“Decidedly, Aramis,” said Athos, “I think I was wrong not to let you fire.”