It was exactly at the mouth of the little river, near where Athos had chosen his abode.
Daylight was waning, a splendid sun, like a red steel buckler, was plunging the lower extremity of its disc beneath the blue line of the sea.

The felucca was making fair way up the river, tolerably wide in that part, but Monk, in his impatience, desired to be landed, and Keyser's boat set him and D'Artagnan upon the muddy bank, amidst the reeds.

D'Artagnan, resigned to obedience, followed Monk exactly as a chained bear follows his master; but the position humiliated him not a little, and he grumbled to himself that the service of kings was a bitter one, and that the best of them was good for nothing.

Monk walked with long and hasty strides; it might be thought that he did not yet feel certain of having reached English land.

They had already begun to perceive distinctly a few of the cottages of the sailors and fishermen spread over the little quay of this humble port, when, all at once, D'Artagnan cried out,--"God pardon me, there is a house on fire!" Monk raised his eyes, and perceived there was, in fact, a house which the flames were beginning to devour.