with permission of the governor.”

“But I do not know the governor.”

“As you know M. Fouquet, you can tell your name.”

“Oh, my friends, I am not a gentleman.”

“Everybody enters Belle-Isle,” continued the fisherman in his strong, pure language, “provided he means no harm to Belle-Isle or its master.”

A slight shudder crept over the body of the musketeer. “That is true,” thought he. Then recovering himself, “If I were sure,” said he, “not to be sea-sick.”

“What, upon her?” said the fisherman, pointing with pride to his pretty round-bottomed bark.