saw the ball
take the crown off two or three waves, dig a white furrow in the sea,
and disappear at the end of it, as inoffensive as the stone with which,
in play, a boy makes ducks and drakes. It was at once a menace and a
warning.

"What is to be done?" asked the patron.

"They will sink us!" said Goenne, "give us absolution, monseigneur!" And
the sailors fell on their knees before him.

"You forget that they can see you," said he.

"That is true!" said the sailors, ashamed of their weakness. "Give us
your orders, monseigneur, we are prepared to die for you."

"Let us wait," said Aramis.

"How--let us wait?"

"Yes; do you not see, as you just now said, that if we endeavor to fly,
they will sink us?"

"But, perhaps," the patron ventured to say, "perhaps under cover of
night, we could escape them."

"Oh!" said Aramis, "they have, no doubt, Greek fire with which to
lighten their own course and ours likewise."

At the same moment, as if the vessel was responsive to the appeal of
Aramis, a second cloud of smoke mounted slowly to the heavens, and from
the bosom of that cloud sparkled an arrow of flame, which described a
parabola like a rainbow, and fell into the sea, where it continued to
burn, illuminating a space of a quarter of a league in diameter.

The Bretons looked at each other in terror. "You see plainly," said
Aramis, "it will be better to wait for them."

The oars dropped from the hands of the sailors, and the bark, ceasing
to make way, rocked motionless upon the summits of the waves. Night came
on, but still the ship drew nearer. It might be imagined it redoubled
its speed with darkness. From time to time, as a vulture rears its head
out of its nest, the formidable Greek fire darted from its sides, and
cast its flame upon the ocean like an incandescent snowfall. At last
it came within musket-shot. All the men were on deck, arms in hand; the
cannoniers were at their guns, the matches burning. It might be thought
they were about to board a frigate and to fight a crew superior in
number to their own, not to attempt the capture of a canoe manned by
four people.

"Surrender!" cried the commander of the _balancelle_, with the aid of
his speaking-trumpet.

The sailors looked at Aramis. Aramis made a sign with his head. Yves
waved a white cloth at the end of a gaff. This was like striking their
flag. The pursuer came on like a race-horse. It launched a fresh Greek
fire, which fell within twenty paces