suspicion, hastened towards the
ocean, constantly hoping to see in the _Landes_, or on the beach, the
colossal profile of Porthos. He persisted in fancying he could trace a
horse's steps in every puddle. Sometimes he imagined he heard the report
of a gun. This illusion lasted three hours; during two of which he went
forward in search of his friend--in the last he returned to the house.

"We must have crossed," said he, "and I shall find them waiting for me
at table."

D'Artagnan was mistaken. He no more found Porthos at the palace than he
had found him on the sea-shore. Aramis was waiting for him at the top of
the stairs, looking very much concerned.

"Did my people not find you, my dear D'Artagnan?" cried he, as soon as
he caught sight of the musketeer.

"No; did you send any one after me?"

"I am deeply concerned, my friend, deeply, to have induced you to
make such a useless search; but, about seven o'clock, the almoner of
Saint-Patern came here. He had met Du Vallon, who was going away, and
who, being unwilling to disturb anybody at the palace, had charged him
to tell me that, fearing M. Getard would play him some ill turn in his
absence, he was going to take advantage of the morning tide to make a
tour of Belle-Isle."

"But tell me, Goliath has not crossed the four leagues of sea, I should
think."

"There are full six," said Aramis.

"That makes it less probable still."

"Therefore, my friend," said Aramis, with one of his blandest smiles,
"Goliath is in the stable, well pleased, I will answer for it, that
Porthos is no longer on his back." In fact, the horse had been brought
back from the relay by the direction of the prelate, from whom no detail
escaped. D'Artagnan appeared as well satisfied with as possible with
the explanation. He entered upon a part of dissimulation which agreed
perfectly with the suspicions that arose more strongly in his mind. He
breakfasted between the Jesuit and Aramis, having the Dominican in front
of him, and smiling particularly at the Dominican, whose jolly, fat face
pleased him much. The repast was long and sumptuous; excellent Spanish
wine, fine Morbihan oysters, exquisite fish from the mouth of the Loire,
enormous prawns from Paimboeuf, and delicious game from the moors,
constituted the principal part of it. D'Artagnan ate much, and drank but
little. Aramis drank nothing, unless it was water. After the repast,--

"You offered me an arquebus," said D'Artagnan.

"I did."