THE SUPPER.

When the buccaneer entered the chevalier hardly knew him. Rend-your-Soul had put off his hunter's costume; he wore a coat and nether garment of guinea cloth, thickly embroidered with alternate rays of white and deep red; his black beard fell upon a shirt of dazzling whiteness, which was close like a doublet by a row of small coral buttons; a scarf of red silk, hose of the same color, and shoes of doeskin with large ribbon-bows, completed a costume most elegant for a buccaneer, and showing to advantage his tall and robust figure; in the brilliant light of the candles his complexion seemed less brown than in the daytime; his black hair, curling naturally, fell carelessly on his shoulders; and finally, his hands were beautiful, in spite of his rough following as a hunter.

At the sight of the buccaneer, so transformed and almost unrecognizable, in spite of the hard character which his thick beard always gave to his face, the chevalier said to himself, "I should prefer that this person had at least a civilized appearance; it would be too humiliating for Polyphème de Croustillac to triumph over a rival so plain as the one which he at first sight appeared to be. But, while I do not doubt this Nimrod, I must say that Blue Beard has a singular manner of acting. Could she not have given him his dismissal in some other way than in my presence? I hate to so cruelly use my advantage in crushing a poor rival; for, after all, a man is a man! This poor buccaneer is going to find himself in a pitiable position. But let me hold firm; and show Blue Beard that I am not the dupe of her confidence concerning her deceased husbands, and that I am not afraid to die like them."

Croustillac ended this reflection when the pretty widow, indicating the adventurer by a triumphant nod of the head, said ingenuously to the buccaneer, "This gentleman asks for my hand in marriage. You see you were wrong in persisting to me that I would not find a fourth husband. So you can imagine I have very quickly accepted the chevalier's proposal; it was too good an opportunity to let slip."

The buccaneer did not reply at once. Croustillac mechanically put his hand on the hilt of his sword, in order not to be without means of defense in case the hunter, exasperated by jealousy, should wish to do him an injury. What was his surprise when he heard Rend-your-Soul say, after seating himself in a large chair, "I have always said to you, my beautiful one, just what that comrade Hurricane said, 'Marry, a thousand devils marry! if you desire to, for husbands are rare, for one never knows what you will do; but one thing is certain, they never live long.' As for me, I do not approve your little proceedings. I have more than once seen your little white hands prepare certain beverages——"

"Oh, fie! fie! bad man!" said Angela, shaking her finger at him.

"Nevertheless, it is true," said the buccaneer. "What is the secret of that gray powder of which I had only given a pinch to my servant who was devoured by my dogs. What infernal concoction was it?"

"Yes, madame, this gray powder—tell us its compounds," said Croustillac.

"Oh, you indiscreet man!" said Angela, looking at the buccaneer, with an air of annoyance. "The chevalier will take me for a child; how shall I appear in his eyes if he thinks I occupy myself with such trifles?"

"Have no fears on that score, madame," said Croustillac; "I am delighted, I assure you, to have these new evidences of your youthful candor! Well, worthy Nimrod, this gray powder?"

"Truly, I am very much ashamed!" said Angela, hanging her head and lowering her eyes, and at the same time making a charming little grimace.

"Imagine, then," said the buccaneer, "that I gave my servant just a little pinch of powder in a glass of brandy."

"Well?" said Croustillac, with interest.

"Well, for two days he was so gay that he laughed from night till morning and morning till night."

"I do not see anything bad in that," said Croustillac.

"But wait!" continued the hunter. "My servant did not do this from amusement, he suffered the torments of the damned; his eyes were bursting from their sockets, and he said, between his paroxysms of laughter, that such torture as he endured was beyond belief. The third day he suffered so that he fell as if in a fit, and remained thus a long time; all due to the pinch of madame's gray powder. It may not surprise you to learn that madame's second husband was as gay as a lark, and that he died very joyfully."

"Oh! heavens, as if one could not commit a little mischief without being reproached by you," said Angela, like a capricious child.

"Listen, comrade! she calls that a little mischief," said the hunter. "Just imagine! her second husband laughed so hard that the blood burst from his nose, eyes and ears. But whatever he laughed about, he did so as if he had seen the most amusing thing in the world. But that did not prevent him from saying, like my servant, that he would rather have been burned at a slow fire than suffer such gayety; he also died, laughing to the last, and swearing like a devil."

"There! you go too fast," said Blue Beard, shrugging her shoulders. Then, whispering to the Gascon, "Friend, do not be afraid—I have lost the secret of the gray powder!"

The chevalier, in an attempt to smile, made quite a grimace. He had left France at a time when the fearful practice in poisons was at its height, and people talked only of the heir's powder, the powder of the aged, and the widow's powder. The names, even, of certain poisons were cited with fear. Now Blue Beard's laughing powder could not but give rise to the most doleful reflections on the part of the chevalier. "So," he said to himself, glancing defiantly at Angela, "does this creature deal in chemistry and draughts—is this story true?"

"What ails you, brother?" said the buccaneer, struck by Croustillac's silence.

"You have made him afraid of me," said the widow.

"No, my beautiful lady, no," said Croustillac, "I was thinking that it must be very pleasant to die thus of laughter!"

"Faith, you are right, brother, one had better die so than as the last husband died." And the buccaneer shuddered with horror.

"It appears that the death of the latter must have been more terrible than the former," said Croustillac, with affected carelessness.

"As to that story, comrade, I will not tell you that, you would be afraid."

"I? afraid?" and the Gascon shrugged his shoulders.

Blue Beard leaned over and whispered again to the Gascon, "Let him tell it, friend; this tale, at least, is worth the trouble. I am going to trap Rendsoul."

Then, addressing herself to the buccaneer, "Well, go on; speak! Why do you not speak? Do not pause in the middle of the road. You see the chevalier is listening with all his ears—go on, speak. I do not wish him to buy, as they say, a 'a cat in a bag.'"

"You should say a tigress in a bag," replied, laughingly, the buccaneer. "Ah, well, sir," addressing Croustillac, "Fancy this third husband a man, handsome, of dark complexion, thirty-six years of age, a Spaniard by birth. We came across him at Havana."

"Heavens! tell it quickly," said the widow, "the chevalier is impatient to hear."

"It was not a gray powder that he tasted, this one," replied the buccaneer, "but a drop, one drop only, of a pretty green liquid contained in the smallest flask I ever saw in my life, for it was made of a single hollow ruby."

"That is simple enough," said Angela, "the strength of this liquid was such that it would dissolve or break any flask which was not made of a ruby or a diamond."

"You can judge, after that, chevalier," said the hunter, "of the pleasure which this liquid must have given our third husband. Certainly I am neither over-tender nor timid, but, after all, it is difficult to become accustomed to seeing a man who looks at you with green eyes, luminous, and set so deep in their orbit that they have the effect of a glowworm in the depths of a subterranean cave."

"The fact is," said Croustillac, who could not prevent a slight shudder, "the fact is that at first this would appear strange."

"That is not all; listen to the rest," said the widow with an air of perfect self-satisfaction.

The buccaneer continued: "That was only his usual condition, poor man, having eyes like a glowworm, but what was most frightful was when madame gave a supper to Hurricane, myself and Youmäale. She dipped a camel's hair brush into the little ruby flask and compelled the unhappy Spaniard to approach, and passed this brush over his eyelashes. Then one would have said that from the eyelashes of this unhappy man there issued a thousand rays; his green eyes, sunken in his head, protruded and rolled in their orbit like two globes of fire, and threw such varied and continual light that they sufficed to light up our feast, while the wretched man stood immovable as a marble statue, saying in a piteous voice, 'My head furnishes fuel for the lamps of my eyes!' It was well that the poor man could not see the fire," said the buccaneer, bursting into laughter at this cruel jest. "And when the supply of oil in the lamp failed, the madame's husband went to join his predecessors, in order to leave his place open to you."

"What Rendsoul tells you is correct," said Blue Beard. "He is very indiscreet, as you see, but he is truthful. And so am I. I have singular ideas and caprices, I know; my God! I do not wish to represent myself as better than I am. Above all, I would be frank with you and conceal nothing. You would ask why my husbands are the only victims of my playfulness? I have no power over others. And I always warn them what will be their fate. It is that which makes it so difficult for me to find a husband. It is on these conditions alone that Satan signs my contract, and then this contract, signed by him, acquires a virtue as wonderful as mysterious. Alas! my friend, may he soon sign ours. I have thought of two preparations which are entirely different from the others, and the effects of which are truly magical."

All this time Croustillac experienced a strange sensation, which he attributed to the fatigue of the day and the evening; it was as if a lethargy possessed his brain and almost took from him the power of resisting by use of his reason the impression made by these strange tales of the widow and the buccaneer. Without believing these fabulous inventions, he was nevertheless frightened by them as one is by a bad dream. The chevalier hardly knew whether he was awake or asleep; he looked at the buccaneer and the widow by turn, with a stupefied air, almost terrified. Finally, being ashamed to show his credulity, he rose abruptly and paced up and down a few minutes in the hope that movement would dispel the torpor which he felt overwhelming him.

Croustillac did not wish to be a butt for these two persons, and he almost regretted having embarked so imprudently in this mad adventure. He said to Blue Beard resolutely, "Come, come, you are jesting, madame; do not trouble yourself; I comprehend the joke. I do not believe you as ferocious or as much of a magician as you wish to appear; to-morrow, I am sure I shall learn the secret of this comedy, which to-night, I avow, gives me a kind of nightmare."

These words of the chevalier, spoken from no motive but to show the dwellers of Devil's Cliff that he did not intend to be their dupe, produced on Blue Beard a singular effect. She cast a terrified glance at the buccaneer, and said haughtily to Croustillac, "I do not jest, sir; you came here with the intention of marrying me; I offer you my hand, and I will tell you upon what conditions; if these are agreeable to you, we will be married in eight days; there is a chapel here; the reverend Father Griffen, of the parish of Macouba, will come hither in order to unite us; if my conditions do not meet with your approval, you can quit this house, where you never ought to have come."

As Blue Beard proceeded her face lost its look of wicked cajolery; she became sad, almost menacing. "A comedy!" she said; "if I thought you took all that has been said as such, you should not remain a moment longer in this house, sir," she continued, in a changed voice, betraying her deep feeling.

"No, the chevalier must not take it all as a jest," said the buccaneer, looking steadily at the Gascon.

Croustillac, naturally impatient and vivacious, experienced vexation at not being able to discover what was true and what feigned in this singular adventure. He cried then, "Well, zounds! madame, what do you wish me to think? I encounter a buccaneer in the forest; I impart to him my desire to meet you; he informs me abruptly that you will yourself tell me that he has the good fortune to be in your good graces."

"And then, sir?"

"Then, madame, though I have warned him, the buccaneer has brought me to you, by whom I have been received with the greatest hospitality, I must acknowledge; I am introduced to you; informed of my desires, you yourself offer me your hand, you inform your friend the bull-hunter of my wishes."

"Well, sir?"

"Madame, up to that time all went well; but now the buccaneer wishes to inform me, with your consent, that I am reserved for a fourth deceased husband, and to succeed a man who laughed himself to death, and one whose eyes served as lights for one of your orgies!"

"It is the truth," said the buccaneer.

"How, the truth?" continued Croustillac, recovering his lost vivacity. "Are we in the land of dreams? Do you take the Chevalier de Croustillac for a simpleton? Do you think I am one of those weak-minded creatures who believe in the devil? I am not a goose, and I also ask twenty-four hours in which to demolish all these ridiculous stories."

Angela became very pale, and threw a look of agony and indescribable fear on the buccaneer, and replied to the chevalier with ill-concealed anger, "Ah, who told you, sir, that all that has taken place is natural? Do you know why I, young and rich, offer you my hand the first moment I see you? Do you know what this union will cost you? You believe yourself to have a strong mind; who told you that certain phenomena would not go beyond your comprehension? Do you know who I am? Do you know where you are? Do you know in consequence of what strange mystery I offer you my hand? A comedy?" repeated Blue Beard bitterly, regarding the buccaneer with an appearance almost of fear; "can you not be made to understand that all this is not a play, sir? It is hardly to be believed that your good angel brought you here, at least."

"And then, after all, who told you that you would ever go out of this place?" said the buccaneer coldly.

The chevalier recoiled a step, trembling, and said:

"Zounds! no violence, at least—or if so——"

"If so, what can you do?" said Blue Beard, with a smile which appeared to the Gascon implacably cruel.

Croustillac thought, too late, of the doors he had shut behind him, of the difficult road he had had to traverse in order to reach this diabolical house; he saw himself at the mercy of the widow, of the buccaneer, and of their numerous slaves. He repented heartily and most earnestly of having so blindly entered upon such an enterprise. On the other hand, Croustillac, in contemplating the enchanting figure of Blue Beard, could not believe her capable of such bloodthirsty perfidy. Nevertheless, the strange avowals she had made him, the terrible reports concerning her, the threats of the buccaneer, began to make some impression upon the chevalier. Just then a mulattress came in to announce supper.

During the gloomy reflections of the adventurer, Angela had a few minutes' conversation with the buccaneer, carried on in a low voice; she was, as a result, apparently satisfied and reassured, for, little by little, her brow cleared, and the smile again came to her lips. "Come, brave knight," said she gayly to the chevalier, "do not be afraid of me any more; do not take me for the devil; and do honor to the modest supper that a poor widow is only too happy to offer you."

So saying, she graciously offered her hand to Croustillac. The supper was served with a sumptuousness, a refinement, which left no doubt in the chevalier's mind as to the enormous fortune of the widow. Only, we would say to the reader that the silver-gilt service was not engraved with the royal arms of England, as were the objects which were placed only before Blue Beard.

In spite of the sprightliness and ideal grace of the widow, in spite of the witty sallies of the buccaneer, the supper was a gloomy one for Croustillac. His habitual assurance had given place to a kind of vague inquietude. The more charming Angela seemed to him, the more she exercised her fascinations, the greater the luxury which surrounded her, the more the adventurer found his distrust increased. In spite of their absurdity, the strange tales of the buccaneer kept returning to the remembrance of the chevalier—both the tale of the gray powder which caused one to die of laughter, and the liquid in the ruby flask which changed the eyes into brilliant lamps. While these recitals might not be more real than a bad dream past—the Gascon, from dread of some infernal dish, could not prevent himself from distrust of the viands and wines with which he was served. He observed the widow and the buccaneer closely; their manners were perfectly correct. Rendsoul bore himself toward Blue Beard with the proper degree of familiarity which a husband displays toward his wife before a stranger. "But then," the chevalier asked himself, "how does this reserve accord with the cynicism of the widow, who declared so cavalierly that the Caribbean and the filibuster shared her good graces with the buccaneer, without the latter being jealous in the slightest degree?" The Gascon asked himself still further what could be the object of Blue Beard in offering her hand to him, and what price she would put upon this union. He was too clear-sighted not to have noticed the lively emotion, sincere on the part of the widow, when she showed such indignation that the adventurer should believe her capable of playing a comedy in offering her hand. On this point Croustillac had not deceived himself. Blue Beard had been deeply moved; she had been in despair on seeing that the Gascon took for a jest or a comedy all that had passed at Devil's Cliff. She had been reassured on seeing the vague disquietude which the face of the chevalier showed in spite of himself. He was lost in vain conjectures. Never had he found himself in a situation so strange that the idea of a supernatural influence or power should present itself to his mind. In spite of himself, he asked himself if there was nothing unnatural in what he had seen and heard. The fact that he felt the first heavy agony of a superstitious terror struck him most disagreeably. He did not dare to acknowledge to himself that more determined men, wiser and more learned men than he, had, within the century, and even the latter part of it, testified a belief in the existence of a veritable devil. And then, finally, the adventurer had been until then much too indifferent in the matter of religion not to believe in the devil, sooner or later.

This fear passed rapidly through the mind of the chevalier, but it would leave, for the future, an indelible mark; however, he reassured himself, little by little, at seeing the pretty widow do honor to the supper; she showed herself too fond of the pleasures of the table to be a spirit of darkness.

The supper at an end, the three entered the drawing room, and Blue Beard said to the chevalier in a solemn voice, "To-morrow I will inform you on what conditions I will give you my hand; if you refuse them, you must leave Devil's Cliff. In order to give you a proof of my confidence in you I consent that you shall pass this night in the interior of this house, although I never accord this favor to strangers. Rendsoul will show you the rooms reserved for you." Saying this, the widow entered her own apartment. Croustillac remained absorbed in thought.

"Ah, well, brother, how do you feel?" said the buccaneer.

"What is your motive in addressing such a question to me? Is it sarcasm?" said the chevalier.

"My motive is simply to know how you like our hostess."

"Hum, hum—without wishing to detract from her, you must confess that she is a woman very difficult to estimate, at first sight," said Croustillac, with some bitterness. "You cannot be surprised if I consider the subject before I answer your question. To-morrow I will tell you my opinion, if I am able to answer, myself."

"In your place I should not consider the subject," said the buccaneer. "I would accept, with eyes closed, all that she offered me, and I would wed her; for, by my faith, one cannot tell who will live or who die; tastes change with years. The days which succeed each other are dissimilar."

"Ah, well, have done with your proverbs and parables," said the Gascon, exasperated. "Why do you not marry her yourself?"

"I?"

"Yes, you!"

"Because I do not wish to die of laughter or have my eyes converted into lamps."

"And do you think that I wish to do so?"

"You?"

"Yes; why should I more than you wish to see the devil sign my contract, as this woman playfully says?"

"Then do not marry her; you are your own master; that is your lookout."

"Certainly, it is my affair, and I will marry her if I choose! Peste!" exclaimed the chevalier, who began to fear that he was losing his wits by reason of this chaos of strange ideas.

"Come, brother, be calm!" said the buccaneer; "do not worry yourself. Do you doubt I will keep my word? I have brought you to Devil's Cliff; the prettiest woman in the world offers you her hand, her heart and her treasures; what more would you have?"

"I would understand all that has taken place, everything that has happened to me for the past two days, all that I have seen and heard to-night!" cried Croustillac, exasperated beyond bounds. "I would know if I am awake or dreaming."

"You must not be too exacting, brother. Perhaps this night will bring you a dream which will explain and enlighten you upon these subjects. Come—it is late, the day has been hard; follow me." And, saying these words, the buccaneer took up a candle and made a sign to the chevalier to follow him.

They passed through a number of sumptuously furnished rooms, and a little gallery, at the end of which they reached a very elegant bed-chamber, whose windows opened on the beautiful garden of which we have already spoken.

"You have been a soldier or a sportsman, brother," said the buccaneer, "you will know, then, how to get along without a servant. No man, except myself, Hurricane, and the Caribbean has ever passed the first door of this place; our beautiful hostess has made an exception in your favor, but this exception must be the only one. Knowing this, brother, may God or the devil keep you in his care." The buccaneer went out, shutting Croustillac in by means of a double lock.

The chevalier, much disturbed, opened a window which looked out on the little park. It was guarded by a trellis of steel netting which it was impossible to break, but which did not hide a view of the beautiful garden which the moon illumined with its soft light.

Croustillac, ill at ease, examined the wainscoting and floor of his chamber, in order to assure himself that they did not cover any trap; he looked under his bed, sounded the ceiling with his sword, but failed to discover anything suspicious. Nevertheless, by way of further prudence and to make sure, the chevalier laid down in his clothing, after having placed his faithful sword at his side, within reach. In spite of his resolve not to go to sleep, the fatigue and emotions of his journey plunged him quickly into a profound slumber.

. . . . . . . . .

Angela, seated in the room of which we have spoken before, said to the buccaneer: "Unfortunately, this man is not so stupid and credulous as we had thought. Heaven grant he may not be dangerous!"

"No, no; reassure yourself," said the buccaneer. "He has shown good stuff, but our two narratives have struck him; he will remember this night for a long time, and, what is better, he will talk about it. Believe me, all the exaggerations which he will use to embellish his recitals will only add to the strange stories afloat concerning Devil's Cliff."

"Ah!" cried the widow, still alarmed at the remembrance of the adventurer saying that all was a comedy and that he would investigate it, "in spite of myself I am terrified."

"There is nothing to be afraid of, I tell you, Madame Blue Beard," said the buccaneer gayly, kneeling before Angela, and looking at her tenderly. "Your diabolical reputation is too well established to suffer the slightest diminution; but acknowledge that I have an imagination, and that my gray powder and my green liquid accomplished wonders."

"And my devil who witnesses my contract," said Angela, laughing merrily.

"That is well; I love thus to see you laughing and merry," said the buccaneer. "When I see you sad and dreamy I am always afraid our retreat bores you."

"Will you please hold your tongue, Monsieur Rendsoul? Have I the appearance of wearying near you? Are you jealous of your rivals? Ask them if I love them better than I do you. Have you not procured me this distraction and the sight of this Gascon, to whom I owe the most delightful amusement? I was unreasonable. Except for my stupid fears, this evening was charming, because you were here, your eyes on mine, my lover. Ah! the moonlight is superb, let us go for a walk in it outdoors."

"Beyond the house?"

"Yes; we will walk on the great cliff, you know, where one sees in the distance the ocean. On such a beautiful night it will be delicious."

"Come, then, capricious child, take your mantle," said the buccaneer, rising.

"Come, Sir Black Beard, take your Spanish sombrero and be ready to carry me in your arms, out of reach of stumbling, for I am lazy."

"Come, Madame Blue Beard; but you do not wish to visit our guest?"

"I am sure the poor devil has some horrible dream. Ah, well, to-morrow we will give him a guide and send him away."

"No, keep him here another day. I will tell you what Father Griffen thinks of it; amusements are rare, he will amuse you."

"Heavens! what a beautiful night," said Angela, opening the blinds of the window. "It will make me so happy to take a walk."

Opening the outer doors of Devil's Cliff, the buccaneer and the widow left the house.

. . . . . . . . .

Contrary to his expectation, Croustillac passed an excellent night. When he awoke the following morning the sun was already high in the heavens; the blinds which were on his chamber windows had been lowered, fortunately, which softened the light. The chevalier had lain down with all his clothing on. He arose and went over to the window, and opened the blinds partially. What was his astonishment to see, at the end of a long walk bordered with tamarinds, that formed a screen almost impenetrable to the light, Blue Beard walking, negligently, leaning on the arm of a Caribbean of vigorous stature. This Caribbean was entirely dyed, according to custom, that is to say, painted with a kind of luminous composition of a reddish brown; his hair, black and glossy, parted in the center, fell on either side of his cheeks; his beard seemed carefully trimmed; his perfectly regular features partook of the character of calm severity peculiar to the savage; on his neck shone large crescents of carracolis (a kind of metal of which the West Indians alone knew the secret, and composed of gold, brass and silver).

These ornaments, of a brilliant red, were curiously chased and incrusted with green stones, the color of malachite, and to these the Indians attribute all kinds of marvelous virtues. The Caribbean was clad in a loose white garment having a border of blue fringe; the large and sweeping folds of this costume would have served as a model for the drapery of a statue. With the exception of the neck, right arm naked to the shoulder, and the left leg, this cotton garment enveloped the Caribbean completely; on his wrist he had bracelets of carracolis also incrusted with green stones; his leg was half hidden by a kind of sandal made of bands of cotton stuff of a vivid color and very picturesque.

Angela and Youmäale, for this was he, were walking slowly, and came directly toward the window from the shadow of which the Gascon watched them. A pink girdle about the beautiful figure of the widow confined a long robe of white muslin; her blond curls fell around her fresh and youthful face, which the adventurer had not seen before by day. He could not refrain from admiring her white and clear complexion, her rosy and transparent cheeks, her eyes so limpid and blue.

The evening before, Angela had appeared to Croustillac in brilliant apparel, and disturbed by the strange confidences of Blue Beard and the buccaneer, the admiration of the chevalier was mixed with distrust, impatience and fear, and he had been more alarmed than touched by the beauty of Angela; but when he saw her in the morning so simply pretty, he experienced a profound emotion; he was moved; he forgot Devil's Cliff and the cannibal, and thought only of the beautiful creature before him. Love, yes, true love took possession suddenly of the chevalier's heart just before so little in love. Though the growth of this sudden passion was so rapid and instantaneous, it was none the less sincere.

Doubtless the evening before, Croustillac had suffered from too much agitation, too sudden astonishment, too strange preoccupations, to really appreciate Blue Beard; refreshed by a night's sleep, the past seemed like a dream and Angela appeared as if for the first time to him; admiring the supple figure outlined by the perfect fit of her white muslin robe, he forgot the brocaded dress studded with precious stones with which he was so impressed the preceding evening. He sought vainly to discover, in the ingenuous and charming features which he now beheld the diabolical smiles of the singular woman who had made such sinister pleasantries concerning her three deceased husbands. In fact, poor Croustillac was in love. Perhaps it was he and not Blue Beard who had changed; but with his new love came all kinds of cruel jealousy.

Seeing Angela and Youmäale walking together so familiarly, the adventurer experienced agony and new disquietude increased by an intense curiosity. Alas! what a sight for him. At times, Angela dropped the Caribbean's arm in order to pursue, with the ardent enjoyment of a child, the beautiful gold and blue insects, or to pick some lovely fragrant flower; then she would suddenly return to Youmäale, always calm, almost solemn, who seemed to have a feeling of grave and tender protection for the young woman.

At times the Caribbean gave his hand to the widow to kiss. Angela, happy and proud at this favor, carried the hand to her lips with an air at once respectful and passionate; she seemed a Caribbean woman accustomed to live a submissive and devoted slave to her master. Youmäale held a magnificent flower which the widow had given him. He let it fall to the earth. Angela bent quickly, and picking it up, handed it to him, while the savage made no gesture to prevent her, or to thank her for this attention.

"Stupid and gross animal!" cried Croustillac indignantly; "would one not think he was a sultan? How can that adorable creature bring herself to kiss the hand of a cannibal, who had no other way of sounding the praises of the good priest Simon than that he had eaten him! Yesterday a buccaneer, to-day a cannibal, to-morrow, without doubt, a filibuster. But she is a veritable Messalina!" continued Croustillac, at once despairing and feeling within himself a victim to a real passion.

The widow and the Caribbean approached nearer and nearer the window where Croustillac stood watching them, and he could hear their conversation. Youmäale spoke French with the slight guttural accent natural to his race; his words were few and brief. Croustillac overheard these words of the conversation:

"Youmäale," said the little widow, leaning on the arm of the Caribbean and looking tenderly at him, "Youmäale, you are my master, I will obey you; is it not my duty, my sweet duty, to obey you?"

"It is thy duty," said the Caribbean, who used that form, but which Angela did not. His dignity as the man demanded this.

"Youmäale, my life is your life, my thoughts are yours," returned Angela; "if you should tell me to put to my lips the deadly juice of this poisonous apple, I should do it, to show you that I belong to you, as your bow, your cabin, your canoe, belong to you."

Saying these words Angela showed the silent Caribbean a yellow fruit which she held in her hand, and which contained the most deadly and subtle poison. Youmäale, after subjecting Angela to the most piercing scrutiny, made an imperative gesture holding up the forefinger of his right hand. At this sign, the widow quickly raised the deadly fruit to her lips, and, had it not been for a movement still more rapid on the part of the Caribbean she would perhaps have given this fatal proof of passive obedience to the slightest caprice of her master. A movement of affright as fugitive as lightning, contracted the impassive features of the Caribbean as the widow lifted the apple to her lips; but he quickly recovered his coolness, lowering the hand of Angela, kissing the young woman gravely on the forehead, and saying to her in a sweet and sonorous tone, "It is well."

At this moment the two pedestrians were so close to the window of Croustillac that the latter, fearing to be discovered eavesdropping, withdrew suddenly into his chamber, and said "How she frightened me with her poison. And this savage animal, who looks like a lobster, as much from the color of his skin as from his movements, says to her, 'It is well,' when this adorable woman, at a sign from him, would have poisoned herself; for once in love, women are capable of anything." Then, after some moments of cruel reflection, the Gascon exclaimed, "It is inexplicable that a woman should be in love with a man such as this one appears to be; with two, for this is evident; although it is an enormity! But it is impossible that she should love three at the same time; this descends to monstrosity—it is worthy of the lower regions. How! Blue Beard, linked to a buccaneer, and a filibuster, also has a frightful fancy for this cannibal who eats missionaries, without taking into account in addition that she proposes to me to marry her! Zounds! this is enough to make one lose his head. Decidedly I will not remain here; no, no, a thousand times, no! What I have seen has made me ill. I will not become so stupid as to take this woman; I should lose all my advantages. Real love makes one as stupid as a goose; during this last hour I have already lost more resolution than since my arrival here. My heart has melted; I feel myself inclined to do the most ridiculous things. Fly, fly; this is madness, a dream. I was born poor; I have always been poor; I will die poor. I will leave this house, I will seek out the worthy captain of the Unicorn. After all," said Croustillac, with a discouragement singular in a man of his character, "there are worse things than swallowing lighted candles to amuse Captain Daniel."

These sad reflections were interrupted by the entrance of the old mulattress, who knocked at his door and informed him that the negro who had waited upon him in the capacity of valet the previous day was waiting for him in the outer building.

Croustillac followed the slave, was dressed, shaved and thus went to wait upon Blue Beard in the same room where he had waited the preceding night.

The widow shortly appeared.

TRUE LOVE.

At sight of Blue Beard, in spite of himself, Croustillac blushed like a schoolboy.

"I was very disagreeable yesterday, was I not?" said Angela to the chevalier, with an enchanting smile. "I gave you a bad opinion of me when I permitted Rendsoul to tell all kinds of tricks; but do not let us speak of them any more. By the way, Youmäale, the Caribbean, is here."

"I saw you from my window, madame," said the chevalier bitterly, while he thought, "She has not the slightest shame. What a pity, with such an adorable face. There, Croustillac, be firm!"

"Is Youmäale not very handsome?" asked the widow with a triumphant air.

"Humph! he is handsome for a savage," returned the chevalier, unwillingly; "but, now that we are alone, madame, explain to me how you can in one day (do not be shocked by this question which circumstances compel me to ask you), how you can in one day change your lover?"

"Oh, it is simple enough; one comes, the other goes; it is very simple."

"One comes, the other goes—it is very simple from this standpoint, but, madame, nature and morality have laws!"

"All three love me truly, why should I not love all three?"

This answer was made with such perfect candor that the chevalier said to himself, "It seems as if this unhappy woman must have been raised in some desert or cavern. She has not the slightest idea of good and evil; one would have to absolutely educate her." He said aloud, with some embarrassment, "At the risk of being taken for an indiscreet and wearisome person, madame, I would say that this morning, during your walk with the Caribbean, I both saw and heard you. How is it that at a sign from him you would dare, at the risk of poisoning yourself, lift to your lips the deadly fruit of the poisonous apple?"

"If Youmäale should say to me 'die' I should die," replied the widow.

"But the buccaneer, the filibuster—what would they say if you should die for the Caribbean?"

"They would say I had done right."

"And if they demanded that you should die for them?"

"I would die for them."

"As you would for Youmäale?"

"As for Youmäale."

"Then you love the three equally?"

"Yes, because all three love me equally."

"She has a rooted idea and no one can dislodge it," thought the Gascon; "I lose my trouble. Her accent is too frank to be assumed. It may be that evil tongues have slandered a fraternal affection that this young woman bears for these three bandits. Though the buccaneer gave me to understand—after all, perhaps I misunderstood him and, as I am going to leave her, I would much rather believe her more innocent than culpable; although she does appear very hard to me to acquit." He went on: "A last question, madame. What was the object of the atrocious tales that you and the buccaneer related last night concerning two of your deceased husbands—that one had died of laughter and the other been used as a lamp, thanks to the intervention of Satan who always, according to the same story, signs your marriage contract? You must feel, madame, that, however polite I may be, it is extremely difficult for me to appear to believe such follies as these."

"They are not follies."

"How—you wish me to believe——"

"Oh, you must believe them, and many other things, after you have evidence of them," said the widow, with a peculiar tone.

"And when will you explain this mystery to me, madame?"

"When I tell you the price I place upon my hand."

"Ah, she is beginning to jest again," thought the Gascon. "I will appear to be duped, in order to see what she will do; I wish she was far away—that my stupid fancy were completely extinguished." Then aloud, "Was it not to-day that you were to say what price you place upon your hand, madame?"

"Yes."

"At what hour?"

"This evening, when the moon rises."

"Why not now, madame?"

"That is a secret you will know like others."

"And if I marry you, you will give me but one year to live?"

"Alas! only a year."

"Let me appear duped," said the Gascon to himself; and aloud, "Is it your desire that my days should be so few?"

"No, no!" cried the widow.

"Then, personally, you do not dislike me?" said Croustillac.

At this question the face of Blue Beard changed entirely and her expression became grave and thoughtful; she raised her head proudly, and the chevalier was struck with the air of nobility and goodness which overspread her face. "Listen to me," she said, with an affectionate and protecting voice. "Because certain circumstances in my life oblige me to a conduct often strange; because I perhaps abuse my liberty you must not think I have a contempt for men of heart."

Croustillac looked at the widow with surprise. She was not the same woman. She appeared like a woman of the world. He was so taken aback that he could not speak.

Blue Beard continued: "You ask me if I hate you; we have not yet reached the point where such sentiments, good or bad, can attain such extremity; but I am far from hating you; you are certainly very vain, very boastful, very arrogant——"

"Madame!"

"But you are good, brave, and you would be capable, I am sure, of a generous devotion; you are poor, of obscure birth——"

"Madame, the name of Croustillac is as good as any other," cried the chevalier, unable to vanquish the demon of pride.

The widow continued as if she had not heard the chevalier. "If you had been born rich and powerful, you would have made a noble use of your power and your wealth. Want has counseled you to more evil than she has made you perform, for you have suffered and endured many privations——"

"But, madame——"

"Poverty finds you careless and resigned; fortune would have found you prodigal and generous; in a word, what is of rare occurrence, you have not been more hurt by poverty than you would have been by prosperity. If the amount of your good qualities has not brought you much more than the heedlessness of youth, this house would not have been open to you, be certain of that, sir. If the proposition that I shall make you to-night is not agreeable to you, I am sure, at least, that you will not carry away a disagreeable remembrance of Blue Beard. Will you await me here?" she said, smiling, "I am going to take a look at Youmäale's breakfast, for it is customary with the Caribbeans that the women alone take care of this, and I wish, in that respect at least, that Youmäale should feel as if in his own cabin."

So saying, the widow left. This interview was, so to speak, a finishing touch to the unhappy chevalier. Although the widow had shrewdly summed up the character of Croustillac, she had expressed it in a manner full of kindness, grace and dignity. She had, in fact, shown herself in a new light, which overthrew all the Gascon's suppositions. The simple and affectionate words of Angela, the sweet and noble look which accompanied them, rendered Croustillac prouder and happier than he would have been at the most extravagant compliments. He felt, with a mixture of joy and fear, so completely and hopelessly in love with the widow that had she been poor and friendless he would have been truly and generously devoted to her—the most unmistakable symptom of true love.

The astounding presumption of the chevalier deserted him. He understood how ridiculous the part he had played must appear; and, as the property of true sentiment is always to make us better, more intelligent and more sensible, in spite of the chaos of contradictions which surrounded Angela's conduct, the chevalier discerned that these appearances must hide a grave mystery; he also said to himself that the intimacy of Blue Beard with her lovers, as she called them, covered, without doubt, another secret, and that this young woman was, as a consequence, slandered in a most unjust manner. He said, further, that the apparent ease with which Angela assumed a frightful cynicism before a stranger was not without some very pressing reason. In consequence of this rehabilitation of Blue Beard in the mind of Croustillac, she became in his eyes, completely innocent of the murder of her three husbands. Finally, the adventurer began to believe, so much had love metamorphosed him, that the solitary inmate of Devil's Cliff wished to mock him; and he proposed to clear up his suspicions that same night, when the widow should tell him the price she placed upon her hand.

One thing embarrassed Croustillac—how could the widow have informed herself of his life so completely? But he remembered, with some exceptions, that he had not made any mystery of the greater part of the antecedents of his life on board the Unicorn, and that the business manager of Blue Beard's affairs at St. Pierre might have discussed the passengers with Captain Daniel. Finally, with a wisdom and good sense which did credit to the new feeling which animated him, Croustillac put these two cases to himself: Either Blue Beard wished to amuse herself, and that night would say to him frankly, "Sir, you have been an impertinent meddler; blinded by vanity, urged on by cupidity, you have made a wager that you would become my husband in a month's time; I have wished to torment you a little, and to play the ferocious part accredited to me; the buccaneer, the filibuster, and the Caribbean are my three servants in whom I have entire confidence; and as I live alone in a very isolated locality, each of them comes by turn to watch at night. Knowing the absurd stories afloat, I wished to amuse myself at the expense of your credulity; this morning, even, I saw from the end of the walk that you were spying upon me, and the comedy of the poisonous apple was arranged with Youmäale; as for the kiss he placed upon my forehead"—here the chevalier was embarrassed for a moment as to how to excuse this part of the rôle which he supposed played by the widow; but he solved the question by saying to himself that, according to Caribbean customs, this familiarity was, doubtless, not considered strange.

The chevalier felt that he must be satisfied with this explanation; and to do him justice (a little late, in truth) he would renounce his mad hopes, beg the widow to forget the conduct of which he had been guilty, kiss her hand and ask her to furnish him with a guide, resume his poor old garments, of faded green, and pink stockings, and return to a happier fate which awaited him in the cabin of the Unicorn's worthy captain.

If, on the contrary, the widow had serious views in regard to the chevalier (which he found some difficulty in admitting to himself, although he was not blind to his own merit), he would repay her with the happiness of his life; he would charge himself personally with protecting his wife, and banish the buccaneer to his trading-station, the Caribbean to his hut, and the filibuster to his occupation; at least, if the widow did not prefer to return with him to France to live there.

We must say to the honor of poor Croustillac that he hardly dwelt upon this last hope; he considered his first interpretation of the conduct of the widow as much more probable. Finally, by a natural reaction, of mind over matter, the triumphant boasting of the chevalier ceased at the same time with his conceit. His face was no longer distorted by grotesque vanity; for it expressed the better qualities of the chevalier—resolution, courage—we would add loyalty, for it was impossible to add more frankness to his conceit than was to be found in the Gascon.

While the Chevalier de Croustillac waited with impatience the night of this day which promised to be so fertile in developments, because Blue Beard intended to signify her final intention, let us conduct the reader to Fort Royal, at Martinique, the principal port of the island, where the governor resided the greater portion of the time. There had transpired a new incident which demands our immediate notice.

The shipyard at St. Pierre, where the Unicorn had touched, was intended for the anchorage of merchant vessels, just as the shipyard at Fort Royal was for ships-of-war.

About the same time that Youmäale was walking with Blue Beard, the lookout above the governor's house (at Fort Royal) signaled a French frigate; the watch sent his assistant to inform the officer of artillery commanding the battery at the fort, in order that he might fire a salute (as was the custom) to the king's flag, (the custom being to fire a salute of ten guns from all the ships-of-war when they came to anchor). To the great surprise of the lookout who repented then of having dispatched his assistant to the sergeant, he saw the frigate heave to, outside the roadstead, and lower a boat; this boat was propelled through the waves to the entrance of the port, while the frigate rode at anchor and waited for it.

This proceeding was so strange that the lookout reported to the captain of the Governor's Guards, and related to him what had occurred, to the end that he could countermand the salute from the fort. This order given, the captain went at once to inform the governor of this singular evolution on the frigate's part.

An hour later, the boat belonging to the French ship arrived at Fort Royal, and landed a person dressed like a man of some rank, who was accompanied by the lieutenant of the frigate. They went at once to the house of the governor, Baron de Rupinelle.

The officer gave a letter from the captain commanding the Fulminante to the baron. His vessel was under orders to wait the result of the mission with which Monsieur de Chemerant was charged, and to depart at once. They had hastily taken on some fresh victuals and fresh water for the men on board. The lieutenant went out to attend to matters pertaining to reprovisioning the frigate, and Monsieur de Chemerant and the governor were alone.

Monsieur de Chemerant was a man of from forty-five to fifty years, of a dark olive complexion which gave to his sea-green eyes an added charm; he wore a black peruke and a brown coat trimmed with gold braid. His features were intellectual, his words few, his eye piercing; his mouth, or rather his lips, were altogether too thin and compressed to ever smile; if he occasionally gave vent to sarcasm upon what had happened, his face became still more serious than usual. He had also very polished manners and showed his familiarity with the best society. His courage, discretion and coolness were such that Monsieur de Louvois had already frequently employed him in missions of the greatest difficulty and danger.

Monsieur de Chemerant afforded a striking contrast to the governor, Baron de Rupinelle, a large and indolent man, having but one care, that of keeping cool; his face was gross, purple and full; his eyes, unusually round, gave him a look of perpetual surprise. The baron, honest and brave, but a perfect nonentity, owed his position to the powerful influence of the Colbert family to which he was related through his mother.

In order to receive the lieutenant of the frigate, and Monsieur de Chemerant with proper courtesy, the baron had removed, much to his regret, a white cotton coat and a hat of Caribbean straw to put on an enormous blond wig, squeeze into a coat of a kind of blue uniform embroidered with gold braid, and buckled on a heavy shoulder-belt and sword. The heat was intense, and the governor anathematized the etiquette of which he was the victim.

"Sir," said De Chemerant, who seemed perfectly indifferent to this tropical temperature, "can we speak without fear of being overheard?"

"There is no danger on that score, sir; this door opens into my study where there is no one, and that one into the gallery which is also unoccupied."

Monsieur de Chemerant arose, looked into the two places, and carefully shut both doors.

"Pardon, sir," said the governor, "if we remain here with only two windows open——"

"You are right, baron," said De Chemerant, interrupting the governor and shutting the windows with equal care, "that is more prudent; we might be heard from the outside."

"But, sir, if we remain without a current of air we shall suffocate here. It will become a perfect oven."

"That which I have the honor to say to you, sir, will not take long; but it concerns a state secret of the greatest importance, and the slightest indiscretion may jeopardize the success of the mission which has been confided to me by the king's command. You must accord me, then, the privilege of shutting ourselves in here until the close of our interview."

"If it is the king's orders, I must submit, sir," said De Rupinelle, with a heavy sigh and wiping his forehead. "I am entirely at your service."

"Be so good as to cast your eye upon my credentials from his majesty," said De Chemerant; and he took a paper from a little box which he bore with great care and never intrusted to any one.

THE ENVOY FROM FRANCE.

While the governor read his dispatch De Chemerant looked with a satisfied air at an object within his box and said to himself, "If I have occasion to use it, this will be perfect; my idea is excellent."

"This order, sir, is regular; I must execute all the commands you give me," said the governor, looking at his visitor with profound astonishment. Then he continued, "It is so very warm, sir, that I must ask your permission to remove my wig, in spite of proprieties."

"Make yourself comfortable, sir, make yourself comfortable, I beg of you."

The governor threw his wig on the table and seemed to breathe more easily.

"And now, baron, be so good as to reply to a number of questions which I have the honor to put to you." And De Chemerant took from his little box some notes wherein was stated, doubtless, what he wished to ask the governor.

"There is, not far from the parish of Macouba, in the midst of woods and rocks, a kind of fortified mansion called Devil's Cliff?"

"Yes, sir, and this same house does not bear a very good name. Chevalier de Crussol, my predecessor, made a visit to the place to learn what foundation there was for these rumors, but I have searched in vain for papers bearing upon this subject among his correspondence."

Monsieur de Chemerant continued: "This house is occupied by a woman—a widow, baron?"

"So thoroughly a widow, sir, that she has been surnamed in the country Blue Beard, because of the rapidity with which she has successively made way with the three husbands she has had. Might I venture to say that this cravat in stifling me, sir?" added the unhappy governor; "we do not usually wear them here, and if you will permit me——"

"Take it off, sir, the service of the king will not suffer thereby. Chevalier de Crussol, your predecessor, you say, began an investigation on the subject of the disappearance of the three husbands of this Blue Beard?"

"So they told me, sir, but I have never found any trace of this investigation."

"Commander de Saint-Simon, who fulfilled the duties of governor after the death of De Crussol, and before your arrival here, did not deliver to you, baron, a confidential letter written by De Crussol?"

"Yes—yes, sir," said the governor, looking at De Chemerant with profound astonishment.

"This letter was written by De Crussol a short time previous to his death?"

"Yes, sir."

"This letter relates to the inhabitant of Devil's Cliff; is this not true, baron?"

"Yes, sir," said the governor, more and more surprised to find De Chemerant so well informed.

"Monsieur de Crussol assured you in this letter, upon his honor, that this woman called Blue Beard was innocent of the crimes imputed to her?"

"Yes, sir, but how can you know?"

Monsieur de Chemerant interrupted the governor and said, "Allow me to say, sir, that the king ordered me to make inquiries of you, and not replies. I have the honor to ask of you if, in this letter, the deceased, De Crussol, did not vouch for the entire innocence of the widow surnamed Blue Beard?"

"Yes, sir."

"He affirmed to you, on the faith of a Christian, and at the moment when he was about to appear before his God, also on his word as a gentleman, that you could, without prejudice to the service of the king, leave this woman at liberty and in peace?"

"Yes, sir."

"And that, finally, the Reverend Father Griffen, a man of well-known piety and the most honorable character, would be further surety for this woman, if you demanded it of him?"

"Yes, sir, and, in truth, in a confidential interview, very special and very secret——"

"Which you had with Father Griffen, baron, this religious man confirmed to you what De Crussol had stated in his last letter, and you made him, in form, a promise not to disturb the aforesaid widow?"

The governor, unable to fathom his being so well informed, gazed at De Chemerant in bewilderment. The kind of emotion which this examination, joined to the oppressiveness of the air, occasioned, was choking the baron. After a short pause he said resolutely to De Chemerant, "Faith, sir, one must accommodate oneself to one's situation. I must ask permission to take off my coat. This trimming of gold and silver weighs a hundred pounds, I believe."

"Take it off, take it off, baron; the coat does not make the governor," he said gravely, with a bow; then he continued: "Thanks to the advice of De Crussol and the Reverend Father Griffen, the dweller at Devil's Cliff has not been disturbed, baron? You have not visited the place, in spite of the strange stories about it?"

"No, sir, I assure you, the recommendation of the persons so respectable as Father Griffen and the deceased De Crussol were sufficient. And then the road to Devil's Cliff is impassable; the rocks bare and rent; it takes two or three hours to climb them; and faith, I assure you, sir, to make such a journey under the sun of the tropics," said the baron, wiping his forehead, which was perspiring at the mere thought of such a climb, "appears to me entirely inadvisable, because, morally, I am convinced that the aforesaid stories have no foundation, and I think in that I am not wrong."

"Allow me, baron, to ask you some further questions."

"At your service, sir."

"The woman called Blue Beard has a counting house at St. Pierre?"

"Yes, sir."

"Her business man is empowered to send out her vessels which are always destined for France?"

"That, sir, is very easily verified in the clearing books of the captains.

"And these registers?"

"Are there in that case."

"Will you take the trouble to look them over, baron, and to select from them some dates which I was going to ask of you?"

The governor arose, mounted painfully on a chair, and took down a large volume bound in green leather, placing it on his desk; then, as if this exertion had redoubled the heat he was suffering from and exhausted his strength, he said to De Chemerant: "Sir, you have been, doubtless, a soldier; you can understand that we live a little carelessly; for, without further parley and asking pardon for the great liberty, I will remove my vest, if you please; it is embroidered in cloth and as heavy as a cuirass."

"Take it off—take off everything that you wish to," replied De Chemerant with impervious gravity; "there is so little left for me to say to you that I trust you will not need to remove more of your apparel. Can you feel assured, other than from these facts, that the vessels loaded with cargoes by our widow have always been sent to France?"

"Yes, sir," replied the governor, opening his register; then, following with the end of his finger the tables, he read, "'For Rochelle, for Rochelle, for Bordeaux, for Bordeaux, for Rochelle, for Rochelle, for Havre de Grace.' You see, sir, the vessels have always sailed for France."

"That is well, baron. According to the direction, frequent enough, of vessels of commerce, which leave the counting-house wharves, it follows that Blue Beard (we will adopt the popular surname) can put a vessel to sea very quickly."

"Doubtless, sir."

"Has she not a brigantine always ready to put to sea, and which can in two hours be at the Creek of Caymans, not far from Devil's Cliff, where there is a little harbor," said De Chemerant, consulting his notes once more.

"Yes, sir; this brigantine is called the Chameleon; Blue Beard recently placed it, very generously, at my service (through the mediation of Monsieur Morris, her man of business), to give chase to a Spanish pirate, and there is an old filibuster of a captain called Hurricane, who commands the vessel——"

"We will speak of this filibuster later, sir, but this pirate——"

"Was sunk in the Rivière des Saints."

"To return to this filibuster, baron; he frequents the house of Blue Beard?"

"Yes, sir."

"As much so as another bad fellow, a buccaneer by trade?"

"Yes, sir," said the baron in a dry tone, resolved to confine himself to the secondary rôle which De Chemerant imposed upon him.

"A Caribbean also is often there?"

"Yes, sir."

"The presence of these men in the island is of how recent date?"

"That I do not know, sir; they were established here at my arrival in Martinique. They say that the filibuster formerly pursued his calling on the north of the Antilles and the seas of the south. Like many captains who have made something by filibustering, he has bought here a little dwelling at the point of the island, where he lives alone."

"And the buccaneer, baron?"

"This kind of person is here to-day, gone to-morrow, according to whether the hunt is more or less abundant; sometimes he remains away a month, and it is the same with the Caribbean."

"This information accords perfectly with that which was given me; beside, I do not speak of men of this sort other than by hearsay. They are far too unimportant, and too foreign to the mission which I am in charge of, to merit their occupying my attention for any length of time. They are, at most, passive instruments," continued De Chemerant to himself, "and they are probably very indirectly connected with this grave matter." Then, after a few minutes' reflection, he said aloud, "Now, baron, one more question: have not your secret police notified you that the English have tried to introduce themselves into this island since the war?"

"Twice, lately, sir, our cruisers have given chase to a suspicious vessel coming from the Barbadoes seeking to approach from the windward, the only places where one can land in the island; elsewhere the coast is too rugged to permit landing."

"Very good," said De Chemerant. After a moment's silence he said, "Tell me, baron, how long would it take to go to Devil's Cliff?"

"About eleven hours; the roads are difficult, one could not reach there before nightfall."

"Well, then, baron," said De Chemerant, taking out his watch, "in two hours from now, that is to say, at one o'clock in the afternoon, you will have the goodness to order thirty of your most reliable guards to arm themselves, to provide themselves with scaling ladders, one or two bombs, and to hold themselves in readiness to follow and obey me as they would yourself."

"But, sir, if you wish to go to Devil's Cliff, you must start at once in order to arrive by daylight."

"Doubtless baron; but as I desire to arrive in the middle of the night, you will see the wisdom of my not starting for two hours."

"That is another thing, sir."

"Can you procure for me a covered litter?"

"Yes, sir, there is mine."

"And can this go to Devil's Cliff?"

"To the foot of the mountain only, not a step further, for they say it is impossible for a horse to climb the heaped-up and yawning rocks."

"Very good; will you, then, be so good, baron, as to have this litter prepared, as well as a mount for me; I will leave it at the foot of the cliff."

"Yes, sir."

"I warn you, baron, that it is of the greatest importance that the object of this enterprise be perfectly concealed; all will be lost if they are warned of my visit to Devil's Cliff; we shall not inform the escort of our destination until outside Fort Royal, and we shall make, I hope, as much haste as the roads will permit. In a word, baron," continued the envoy, with a confidential air, which he had not assumed until then, "mystery is so much the more indispensable that it concerns a state secret and the future of two great nations."

"Because of Blue Beard?" said the governor, questioning with a curious glance the cold and grave face of De Chemerant.

"Because of Blue Beard."

"How?" replied the baron. "Blue Beard, then, counts for something in a state secret, in the peace of two great nations?"

Monsieur de Chemerant, who did not like repetition, made an affirmative sign and continued, "I also beg of you, baron, that you will see that the frigate's boat does not leave the wharf, so that I may return on board and put to sea without remaining here a second, if, as I hope, my mission be successful. Ah! I forgot; the litter must be such that it can be entirely closed."

"But, sir, is it, then, a prisoner that you are in search of?"

"Sir," said De Chemerant, rising, "a thousand pardons for repeating to you that the king ordered me to make inquiries of you instead of——"

"Good, very good, sir," said the governor. "Then I may open the windows?" asked the baron, who was suffocated in this apartment.

"I see nothing to prevent, baron."

The governor arose.

"So, baron," said De Chemerant, "it is understood that you do not inform the guide who is to conduct me of my destination, until the moment of our departure?"

"But in the meantime, sir, if I send for him, what shall I say to him?"

The visitor seemed astonished at the simplicity of the governor, and said to him, "Who is this guide, sir?"

"One of my blacks, who works at the king's house, a good league from here. He is an oddity who has run away himself so often that he is more familiar with the inaccessible spots of the island than with the open roads."

"Is this slave reliable, sir?"

"Entirely, sir; he would have no object in leading you astray; beside, I will warn him that if he does, I will have his nose and ears out off."

"It is impossible that he should resist such a consideration, baron. But to reply to your objection—how will this negro occupy himself until the moment of our departure?"

"An idea!" cried the baron triumphantly; "he can be flogged; that will mislead him; he believes that no one summons him here other than for that reason."

"That would be, certainly, an excellent means, baron, of working a diversion in his ideas, but it will suffice, I think, to keep him shut up until the moment of our departure. Ah! I had forgotten another thing, baron; I beg you will see that, during my absence, everything that can be found in the way of delicacies in fruit, vegetables, game, fine wines, confections, etc., etc., be sent on board ship. You need not consider expense, I will meet that."

"I understand you, sir; I must collect, in the way of refreshments, all that it is possible to keep on board during the first days of the voyage, as much so as if it were for the entertainment of a person of the greatest distinction," said the governor curiously.

"You understand me marvelously well, baron. But I fancy this black, our guide, has viewed, at least from the outside, the habitation at Devil's Cliff."

"Yes, sir; and he tells very strange stories about that house and the solitudes where it is builded."

"Ah, well, baron; here is a task for this slave; give orders that he be brought to me pending the time of our departure, and I will question him concerning what I wish to discover."

"I will send in search of him at once," said the governor, going out.

"May God or the devil convey this affair into safe harbor," said De Chemerant, when he was alone. "Fortunately, I have no need of the aid of this stupid governor; the greatest difficulty is still to be surmounted; but no matter, I have faith in my star. The affair of Fabrio-Chigi was a much more difficult matter, and then the hope, if not of a crown, at least almost of a throne, the ambition to direct the course of a great nation, the desire of recovering the good graces of the king, his relative, would not there be reasons sufficient to determine the most rebellious will? and, moreover, if these reasons were not enough," said De Chemerant, after some moments of silence, striking his little box, "here is another argument which will be, perhaps, more effectual."