th take for the
gigantic abode of a _dolmen_. And so many twining branches, so many
mosses, bent by the bitter wind of ocean, so many lichens solder thy
sepulcher to earth, that no passers-by will imagine such a block of
granite could ever have been supported by the shoulders of one man.

Aramis, still pale, still icy-cold, his heart upon his lips, looked,
even till, with the last ray of daylight, the shore faded on the
horizon. Not a word escaped him, not a sigh rose from his deep breast.
The superstitious Bretons looked upon him, trembling. Such silence was
not that of a man, it was the silence of a statue. In the meantime, with
the first gray lines that lighted up the heavens, the canoe hoisted its
little sail, which, swelling with the kisses of the breeze, and carrying
them rapidly from the coast, made bravest way towards Spain, across the
dreaded Gulf of Gascony, so rife with storms. But scarcely half an hour
after the sail had been hoisted, the rowers became inactive, reclining
on their benches, and, making an eye-shade with their hands, pointed out
to each other a white spot which appeared on the horizon as motionless
as a gull rocked by the viewless respiration of the waves. But that
which might have appeared motionless to ordinary eyes was moving at a
quick rate to the experienced eye of the sailor; that which appeared
stationary upon the ocean was cutting a rapid way through it. For some
time, seeing the profound torpor in which their master was plunged,
they did not dare to rouse him, and satisfied themselves with exchanging
their conjectures in whispers. Aramis, in fact, so vigilant, so
active--Aramis, whose eye, like that of the lynx, watched without
ceasing, and saw better by night than by day--Aramis seemed to sleep
in this despair of soul. An hour passed thus, during which daylight
gradually disappeared, but during which also the sail in view gained so
swiftly on the bark, that Goenne, one of the three sailors, ventured to
say aloud:

"Monseigneur, we are being chased!"

Aramis made no reply; the ship still gained upon them. Then, of their
own accord, two of the sailors, by the direction of the patron Yves,
lowered the sail, in order that that single point upon the surface of
the waters should cease to be a guide to the eye of the enemy pursuing
them. On the part of the ship in sight, on the contrary, two more small
sails were run up at the extremities of the masts. Unfortunately, it was
the time of t