Artagnan distinctly saw the land of France profiled in black against
the white clouds of night.

"Ah! monsieur," said he, in a low voice, to the officer, to whom, for an
hour, he had ceased speaking, "what would I give to know the
instructions for the new commander! They are all pacific, are they not?
and--"

He did not finish; the sound of a distant cannon rolled over the
waters, then another, and two or three still louder. D'Artagnan
shuddered.

"The fire is opened upon Belle-Isle," replied the officer. The canoe had
just touched the soil of France.

CHAPTER CXIX.

THE ANCESTORS OF PORTHOS.

When D'Artagnan had quitted Aramis and Porthos, the latter returned to
the principal fort to converse with the greater liberty. Porthos, still
thoughtful, was a constraint upon Aramis, whose mind had never felt
itself more free.

"Dear Porthos," said he, suddenly, "I will explain D'Artagnan's idea to
you."

"What idea, Aramis?"

"An idea to which we shall owe our liberty within twelve hours."

"Ah! indeed!" said Porthos, much astonished. "Let us see it."

"Did you remark, in the scene our friend had with the officer, that
certain orders restrained him with regard to us?"

"Yes; I did remark that."

"Well! D'Artagnan is going to give in his resignation to the king, and
during the confusion which will result from his absence, we will get
away, or rather you will get away, Porthos, if there is a possibility of
flight only for one."

Here Porthos shook his head and replied: "We will escape together,
Aramis, or we will remain here together."

"You are a generous heart," said Aramis, "only your melancholy
uneasiness afflicts me."

"I am not uneasy," said Porthos.

"Then you are angry with me."

"I am not angry with you."

"Then why, my friend, do you put on such a dismal countenance?"

"I will tell you: I am making my will." And while saying these words,
the good Porthos looked sadly in the face of Aramis.

"Your will!" cried the bishop. "What then! do you think yourself lost?"

"I feel fatigued. It is the first time, and there is a custom in our
family."

"What is it, my friend?"

"My grandfather was a man twice as strong as I am."

"Indeed!" said Aramis: "then your grandfather must have been Samson
himself."

"No; his name was Antoine. Well! he was about my age, when setting out
one day for the chase, he felt his legs weak, he who had never known
this before."

"What was the meaning of th