Achates Writes a Ballade of Double Refrain

Only the seamen and the priests went about unconcerned, untroubled,
tranquil, the one knowing his sea and the other his God. There was
something reassuring in the serenity of the black cassocks as they went
hither and thither, offering physical and spiritual assistance. They
inspired the timid and the fearful, many of whom still believed that
the world had its falling-off place. And seasickness overcame many.

With some incertitude the Vicomte d'Halluys watched the Jesuits. After
all, he mused, it was something to be a priest, if only to possess this
calm. He himself had no liking for this voyage, since the woman he
loved was on the way to Spain. Whenever Brother Jacques passed under
the ship's lanterns, the vicomte stared keenly. What was there in this
handsome priest that stirred his antagonism? For the present there
seemed to be no solution. Eh, well, all this was a strange whim of
fate. Fortune had as many faces as Notre Dame has gargoyles. To bring
the Comte d'Hérouville, himself, and the Chevalier du Cévennes together
on a voyage of hazard! He looked around to discover the whereabouts of
the count. He saw him leaning against a mast, his face calm, his
manner easy.

"There is danger in that calm; I must walk with care. My faith! but
the Chevalier will have his hands full one of these days."

Mass was celebrated, and a strange, rude picture was presented to those
eyes accustomed to the interior of lofty cathedrals: the smoky
lanterns, the squat ceiling, the tawdry woodwork, the kneeling figures
involuntarily jostling one another to the rolling of the ship, the
resonant voice of Father Chaumonot, the frequent glitter of a
breast-plate, a sword-hilt, or a helmet.