the brioche was not so large, and probably there were to be seen to trellises of lath around the brioche, which constitute an ornament, planted like gardes-fous along the passages that wind towards the little terrace. Upon the shingle lounged three or four fishermen talking about sardines and shrimps. D’Artagnan, with his eyes animated by a rough gayety, and a smile upon his lips, approached these fishermen.

“Any fishing going on to-day?” said he.

“Yes, monsieur,” replied one of them, “we are only waiting for the tide.”

“Where do you fish, my friends?”

“Upon the coasts, monsieur.”

“Which are the best coasts?”