"To tell the truth, most dear father, I have never yet thought of one. But, in choosing a wife, I am always thy son, and thou shalt choose for me."
"I believe thee in that, my son. But thou shalt choose for thyself when the time comes for a wife. When thou findest her, bring her home; she shall find a father waiting for her."
Pantagruel stretched out one big hand across the table. It met another big hand, only that other was more knotty and wrinkled than his own. Then the two mighty hands clasped.
"But this is not all that I wanted to say, my boy. It is time thou shouldst travel. Thou needest rest. Hast thou not been King in my place?" The old Giant laughed as he said this. "Hast thou not filled my throne, thou young rogue, for this score of years and more? Thou art not so strong as thou wast; thou hast need of a holiday."
"Hast thou also thought, father, of a plan for all this whilst thou wert in Fairy-land?"
"Well, yes. I had nothing else to do there but think. I know thou dost love to travel and see strange things. Thou shalt start at once. Don't crawl on land. Spread out thy white sails, and try the seas. Take with thee thy friend Panurge,—he looks like a keen fellow,—my old friend Friar John, my old master Ponocrates, who would be better for a trip; also Master Epistemon, and such others as thou pleasest. Put thy open hand into my treasure-box, and draw out thy closed fist with what thou wantest of my gold. Thou wilt find at my arsenal, Thalasse, all that thou needest; besides pilots, sailors, and stout soldiers. At the first fair wind, set sail. When thou art away, my boy, I shall make ready for thy wife, and for a splendid feast when thou shalt bring her safe home."
[CHAPTER XXXV.]
PANTAGRUEL STARTS ON HIS TRAVELS, AND LANDS AT THE ISLAND OF PICTURES.
