“I want a man to light me,” continued Monk.
“Your honor may depend upon us,” said a voice which made Athos start. “Where do you wish us to go?”
“You shall see. A light! come, quickly!”
“Yes, your honor. Does it please your honor that I should accompany you?”
“You or another, it is of very little consequence, provided I have a light.”
“It is strange!” thought Athos, “what a singular voice that man has!”
“Some fire, you fellows!” cried the fisherman; “come, make haste!”
Then addressing his companion nearest to him in a low voice:—“Get a light, Menneville,” said he, “and hold yourself ready for anything.”
One of the fishermen struck light from a stone, set fire to some tinder, and by the aid of a match lit a lantern. The light immediately spread all over the tent.
“Are you ready, monsieur?” said Monk to Athos, who had turned away, not to expose his face to the light.