he finest and longest days of the year, and the moon, in
all her brilliancy, succeeded inauspicious daylight. The _balancelle_,
which was pursuing the little bark before the wind, had then still half
an hour of twilight, and a whole night almost as light as day.

"Monseigneur! monseigneur! we are lost!" said the captain. "Look! they
see us plainly, though we have lowered sail."

"That is not to be wondered at," murmured one of the sailors, "since
they say that, by the aid of the devil, the Paris-folk have fabricated
instruments with which they see as well at a distance as near, by night
as well as by day."

Aramis took a telescope from the bottom of the boat, focussed it
silently, and passing it to the sailor, "Here," said he, "look!" The
sailor hesitated.

"Don't be alarmed," said the bishop, "there is no sin in it; and if
there is any sin, I will take it on myself."

The sailor lifted the glass to his eye, and uttered a cry. He believed
that the vessel, which appeared to be distant about cannon-shot, had
at a single bound cleared the whole distance. But, on withdrawing
the instrument from his eye, he saw that, except the way which the
_balancelle_ had been able to make during that brief instant, it was
still at the same distance.

"So," murmured the sailor, "they can see us as we see them."

"They see us," said Aramis, and sank again into impassibility.

"What!--they see us!" said Yves. "Impossible!"

"Well, captain, look yourself," said the sailor. And he passed him the
glass.

"Monseigneur assures me that the devil has nothing to do with this?"
asked Yves.

Aramis shrugged his shoulders.

The skipper lifted the glass to his eye. "Oh! monseigneur," said he, "it
is a miracle--there they are; it seems as if I were going to touch them.
Twenty-five men at least! Ah! I see the captain forward. He holds a
glass like this, and is looking at us. Ah! he turns round, and gives
an order; they are rolling a piece of cannon forward--they are loading
it--pointing it. _Misericorde!_ they are firing at us!"

And by a mechanical movement, the skipper put aside the telescope, and
the pursuing ship, relegated to the horizon, appeared again in its true
aspect. The vessel was still at the distance of nearly a league, but the
maneuver sighted thus was not less real. A light cloud of smoke appeared
beneath the sails, more blue than they, and spreading like a flower
opening; then, at about a mile from the little canoe, they