“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.”
“Oh, my friends, I am not a gentleman.”
“Everybody enters Belle-Isle,” continued the fisherman in his strong, pure language, “provided he means no harm to Belle-Isle or its master.”
A slight shudder crept over the body of the musketeer.
“That is true,” thought he. Then recovering himself, “If I were sure,” said he, “not to be sea-sick.”