"Ah! Egad!" cried Aramis, "you set me thinking. No, in truth you are no visionary, my dear friend, and now I think of it -- you -- yes, i'faith, you're right -- those delicate, yet firm-set lips, those eyes which seem always at the command of the intellect and never of the heart! Yes, it is one of Milady's bastards!"
"You laugh Aramis."
"From habit, that is all. I swear to you, I like no better than yourself to meet that viper in my path."
"Ah! here is De Winter coming," said Athos.
"Good! one thing now is only awanting and that is, that our grooms should not keep us waiting."
"No," said Athos. "I see them about twenty paces behind my lord. I recognize Grimaud by his long legs and his determined slouch. Tony carries our muskets."
"Then we set sail to-night?" asked Aramis, glancing toward the west, where the sun had left a single golden cloud, which, dipping into the ocean, appeared by degrees to be extinguished.
"Probably," said Athos.
"Diable!" resumed Aramis, "I have little fancy for the sea by day, still less at night; the sounds of wind and wave, the frightful movements of the vessel; I confess I prefer the convent of Noisy."
Athos smiled sadly, for it was evident that he was thinking of other things as he listened to his friend and moved toward De Winter.
"What ails our friend?" said Aramis, "he resembles one of Dante's damned, whose neck Apollyon has dislocated and who are ever looking at their heels. What the devil makes him glower thus behind him?"
When De Winter perceived them, in his turn he advanced toward them with surprising rapidity.
"What is the matter, my lord?" said Athos, "and what puts you out of breath thus?"
"Nothing," replied De Winter; "nothing; and yet in passing the heights it seemed to me ---- " and he again turned round.
Athos glanced at Aramis.
"But let us go," continued De Winter; "let us be off; the boat must be waiting for us and there is our sloop at anchor -- do you see it there? I wish I were on board already," and he looked back again.
"He has seen him," said Athos, in a low tone, to Aramis.
They had reached the ladder which led to the boat. De Winter made the grooms who carried the arms and the porters with the luggage descend first and was about to follow them.
At this moment Athos perceived a man walking on the seashore parallel to the jetty, and hastening his steps, as if to reach the other side of the port, scarcely twenty steps from the place of embarking. He fancied in the darkness that he recognized the young man who had questioned him. Athos now descended the ladder in his turn, without losing sight of the young man. The latter, to make a short cut, had appeared on a sluice.
"He certainly bodes us no good," said Athos; "but let us embark; once out at sea, let him come."
And Athos sprang into the boat, which was immediately pushed off and which soon sped seawards under the efforts of four stalwart rowers.
But the young man had begun to follow, or rather to advance before the boat. She was obliged to pass between the point of the jetty, surmounted by a beacon just lighted, and a rock which jutted out. They saw him in the distance climbing the rock in order to look down upon the boat as it passed.
"Ay, but," said Aramis, "that young fellow is decidedly a spy."
"Which is the young man?" asked De Winter, turning around.
"He who followed us and spoke to us awaits us there; behold!"
