The day after the occurrence of the events we have just related, a group of several persons, some on foot, and others on horseback, skirted the edge of the sea, and seemed to direct their course toward the Gulf of La Ciotat.
The most important personage of this little caravan was a man of considerable corpulence, with a solemn and formal countenance, wearing a travelling-cloak over his habit of black velvet.
He had a chain of silver around his neck, and rode a little horse with an ambling gait.
These personages were no other than Master Isnard, recorder of the admiralty of Toulon, and his clerk or scribe, who, mounted on an old white mule, carried behind enormous bags filled with bundles of papers, and two large registers in their boxes of black shagreen.
The clerk was a little middle-aged man, with a pointed nose, a pointed chin, high cheek-bones, and sharp eyes. This nose, this chin, and these cheek-bones, and these eyes were very red, thanks to the very keen wind from the north.
A valet, mounted on another mule, laden with wallets, and two halberdiers, dressed in green and orange-coloured cassocks trimmed with white lace, accompanied the recorder and his clerk.
It was evident that the two officers of justice did not enjoy an unmarred serenity.
Master Isnard, especially, betrayed his bad humour, from time to time, by imprecations upon the cold, the weather, the roads, and particularly upon his mission.
The clerk responded to these complaints with a humble and pitiful air.
“On my oath!” cried the recorder, “here I am only two days on my circuit, and it is far from promising anything agreeable. Hm! the nobility takes this census of arms ordered by the Marshal of Vitry very ill; they receive us in their castles like Turks—”