“And that was—” said Athos.
“That was the devil, monsieur; for the gentleman, with great glee, cried out, on seeing him: ‘Ah! thank you, monseigneur!’”
“A most strange story!” murmured the comte, looking at Raoul.
“And what did you do?” asked the latter of the fisherman.
“You must know, monsieur, that two poor men, such as we are, could be no match for two gentlemen; but when one of them turned out to be the devil, we had no earthly chance! My companion and I did not stop to consult one another; we made but one jump into the sea, for we were within seven or eight hundred feet of the shore.”
“Well, and then?”
“Why, and then, monseigneur, as there was a little wind from the southwest, the boat drifted into the sands of Sainte-Marguerite’s.”
“Oh!—but the travelers?”
“Bah! you need not be uneasy about them! It was pretty plain that one was the devil, and protected the other; for when we recovered the boat, after she got afloat again, instead of finding these two creatures injured by the shock, we found nothing, not even the carriage or the case.”
“Very strange! very strange!” repeated the comte. “But after that, what did you do, my friend?”