"Let us see,—tell me this mysterious plan."
"Here it is, then," replied Falmouth. "Do you know the Yacht Club?"
"Yes,—and you are, I believe, one of its members."
"Well, as such I own a charming schooner now moored off the Islands of Hyères, near Marseilles. This schooner is armed with eight carronades, and equipped with a crew of forty men."
"It is, then, a veritable cruise which you propose to me?"
"Almost; but you should first know that the crew of my yacht, from the captain to the last sailor, is entirely devoted to me."
"I can readily believe it."
"You should know further that my yacht, which is named the Gazelle, is worthy of its name; it does not sail, it bounds over the water. It has three times beaten the brig of Lord Yarboroug, our president, in the races at the Isle of Wight, and has taken the prize of the Yacht Club; in a word, there is not a warship of the royal navy of France or of England, that my yacht cannot distance as easily as a race-horse outstrips a cart-horse."
"I know that nearly all these pleasure-boats of your aristocracy swim like fishes; but what more?"
"Life now seems to you weary and monotonous, does it not? Well, would you like to give it some savour?"