THE STORM.

Monsieur De Chemerant had scarcely left Fort Royal at the head of his escort when a young mulatto of about fifteen, after having followed for some time, hiding in the ravines or the swamps, on seeing the troop take the road to Devil's Cliff, started with all haste for Macouba.

Thanks to his perfect knowledge of the country and of certain roads not open, this slave reached Father Griffen's parish very soon. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon; the good priest was taking his afternoon nap, comfortably extended in one of the hammocks so ingeniously made of rushes by the Caribbeans. The young mulatto had the greatest difficulty in persuading one of the priest's two slaves to awaken his master; finally Monsieur concluded, after long hesitation, because of the deep and peaceful sleep of the priest, to do so.

"What do you want?" said the priest.

"Master, a young mulatto has come in haste from Fort Royal and wishes to speak to you at once."

"A mulatto from Fort Royal," said Father Griffen, springing from his hammock. "Let him come in quickly. What do you want, my child?" continued he, addressing the young slave; "have you come by direction of Monsieur Morris?"

"Yes, Father. Here is a letter from him. He told me to follow an escort of troops leaving Fort Royal this morning, and directed me, if they took the road to Devil's Cliff, to come and tell you, Father. His letter will explain the rest."

"Very well, my child, the troop——"

"Plunged into the Goyaviers valley, and took the road to the Black Rocks; that leads only to Devil's Cliff."

Father Griffen, much disturbed, broke the seal of the letter and seemed overcome at its contents. He re-read it with evidence of the greatest surprise, and then said to the mulatto, "Go quickly and find Monsieur."

The mulatto went at once.

"An envoy from France has arrived; he had a long interview with the governor, and I fear he has started with armed men for Devil's Cliff, as Monsieur Morris believes," said the priest, walking up and down agitatedly. "Monsieur Morris does not know, cannot know more. But I—I—I tremble to think of the consequences of this visit. Doubtless the mystery has been unveiled. And how, how? Who can have put them on the scent? Did not the secret die with De Crussol? His letter is my guarantee. Did they not quiet the governor and cause him to give up all pursuit of this unhappy woman?" Then, referring to Monsieur Morris' letter, the priest continued: "'A French frigate which remains at anchor outside the roadstead, an envoy who confers for two hours with the governor, and who, after this interview, leaves for Devil's Cliff with an escort'—there is more than suspicion, there is certainty? They have come to carry her off. My God! can it be true? But, the secret—who but myself knew it? for I only knew it, oh, yes, I alone, at least unless a frightful sacrilege—but no, no!" said the priest, clasping his hands with terror. "Such a thought on my part is a crime. No, it is impossible. I would rather believe it was indiscretion on the part of the only person who has an interest for life or death in the mystery, than that it should be the most impious treachery. No, a thousand times no; it is impossible! but I must start at once for Devil's Cliff. Perhaps I can get the advance of this man who has left Fort Royal with an escort. Yes, by hurrying, I may do it. I will find that unlucky Gascon; they have nothing to fear there. His extraordinary appearance on board made me believe the poor devil, for a time, to be an emissary from London or Saint-Germain; but I have, as they say, turned him inside out, in every way. I mentioned before him abruptly certain names which, had he been in the secret, he would have found it impossible not to betray it, however guarded he might be, and he remained impassible. I understand men too well to have been deceived by him; the chevalier is nothing but a crazy adventurer, a spoiled child, in whom, after all, good qualities triumph over the bad ones."

At this moment Monsieur appeared.

"Saddle Grenadille at once."

"Yes, master."

"Unchain Colas."

"Yes, master."

"Do not forget to put my large traveling cloak behind my saddle."

"Yes, master."

The black went out, then returned almost immediately, saying, "Master, shall I arm Colas?"

"Certainly, we go through the forest."

While his mare was being saddled, the priest continued to pace up and down restlessly. All at once he cried, with fright, as if struck by a sudden thought, "But if I have been deceived; if this adventurer, under a guise of frivolity, concealed some plan coolly resolved upon—some sinister design? But no! no! cunning and dissimulation could not attain to such an odious perfection. But what if his errand coincides with that of this man who has started out with an escort? And I, I who have answered for this adventurer, I who in my letter of yesterday have almost approved their decision concerning him, thinking, as they did, that this Gascon by repeating the mysterious stories connected with Devil's Cliff, would only advance the ends of those who live there. But what if I have been deceived? if I have helped introduce a dangerous enemy there? But no! he would have taken action before this if he had known the secret. And still—no! no! perhaps he waited the arrival of this frigate and this emissary before acting? Perhaps he is working with him? Oh! I am in terrible uncertainty."

So saying, Father Griffen went out quickly to hasten the preparations for his departure. Monsieur was saddling Grenadille and Jean was arming Colas.

Some explanation is necessary in order to instruct the reader in regard to a new actor of which we have thus far had no occasion to speak. Colas was a boar, possessed of marvelous intelligence; this boar always accompanied him and went ahead on these excursions. Thanks to their long, rough hair, and to their thick coat of fat, which impedes and congeals, so to speak, the sting of serpents, boars and even domesticated pigs carry on in the colonies a desperate war with these reptiles; Colas was one of their most intrepid enemies. His armor consisted of a kind of muzzle of iron pierced with little holes, and ending in a kind of very sharp crescent. This protected the end of the boar's head, its only vulnerable part, and furnished him with a formidable weapon against serpents. Colas always preceded Grenadille some steps, clearing the road and putting to flight the serpents which would have stung the mare.

Father Griffen, if he had known of the abrupt departure of Croustillac (the adventurer had, as we know, left the parsonage without any farewell to his host), would have offered Colas to the chevalier, when he became assured that Croustillac was absolutely determined to penetrate the forest. The priest thought that the boar would protect Croustillac from some of the dangers to which he would be exposed; but the early flight of the latter rendered the thoughtfulness of Father Griffen futile.

After placing the house in charge of the two blacks, on whose faithfulness he knew he could count, the priest spurred Grenadille, whistled to Colas, who responded with a joyful grunt, and like another St. Antony, the good father took the road which would lead him to Devil's Cliff, fearful of arriving too late, and also of encountering on the way De Chemerant, whom he could with difficulty hope to head off.

. . . . . . . . .

The reader will remember that, thanks to the voracity of the wildcats which had devoured the corpse of the sailor John, Colonel Rutler had been enabled to emerge from the pearl-fisher's cave by way of the underground passage. In order to understand the extreme importance and difficulty of the expedition which Colonel Rutler had undertaken, we must recall to the reader that the park contiguous to Blue Beard's mansion ran from north to south, like a kind of isthmus surrounded by abysms. On the east and west these abysms were almost without bottom, for on these sides the furthermost trees of the garden overhung a peak of tremendous height, whose granite face was washed by the deep and rapid waters of two torrents. But on the north, the park jutted on a steep incline, accessible, though dangerous in the extreme. Nevertheless, this side of the garden was sheltered from attack, for in order to climb these rocks, less perpendicular than those on the east and west, it was necessary to first descend to the bottom of the abyss by the opposite side, an undertaking physically impossible to attempt, even with the aid of a rope of sufficient length, the face of the rock sometimes jutting out and sometimes broken by the angles of the rocks projecting or receding.

Colonel Rutler, on the contrary, having passed through the underground passage, had at once reached the foot of the precipice; there remained for him only to essay the perilous ascent in order that he might gain entrance into Devil's Cliff. It would take about an hour to climb these rocks; he did not wish to enter the park surrounding the mansion until night had fallen; he waited before starting on his road, until the sun should be setting. The colonel had thrust the skeleton of John out of the passage. It was thus, near these human remains, in a profound and wild solitude, in the midst of a veritable chaos of enormous masses of granite thrown up by the convulsions of nature, that the emissary of William of Orange passed some hours, reclining in a cleft in the rocks in order to escape the heat of a tropical sun.

The oppressive silence of this solitary place was now and then interrupted by the roar of the sea as it fell upon the beach. Soon the golden light of the sun became more rosy; great angles of light outlined the face of the rocks where one could discern the further trees of Blue Beard's park, becoming fainter, little by little; and dull mists began to envelop the bottom of the abyss where Rutler waited. The colonel judged it time to depart.

Notwithstanding his rare energy, this man of iron felt himself seized, in spite of himself, with a kind of superstitious fear; the horrible death of his companion had affected him keenly, the enforced fast to which he had been subjected since the preceding evening (he could not bring himself to eat the serpent), mounted to his head, causing singular and sinister ideas; but, surmounting this weakness, he commenced the ascent.

At first Rutler found the points of support allowed him to rapidly climb a third of the face of the cliff. Then serious obstacles began to present themselves; but with dogged courage he surmounted them. At the moment when the sun disappeared suddenly below the horizon, the colonel reached the summit of the cliff; broken by fatigue and pain, he fell half-fainting at the foot of the further trees of the park at Devil's Cliff; happily among these were several cocoanut trees; a large quantity of ripe nuts lay on the ground. Rutler opened one with the point of his dagger; the fresh liquid inclosed within appeased his thirst, and its nourishing pulp his hunger. This unexpected refreshment renewed his strength, and the colonel penetrated resolutely into the park; he walked with extreme caution, guiding himself by the instructions John had given him, in order that he might reach the white marble fountain not far from which he wished to conceal himself. After walking some time in this obscurity, under a tall forest of orange trees, Rutler heard in the distance a slight sound as of a stream of water falling into a basin; soon after he reached the border of the orange grove, and by the faint light of the stars—for the moon would not rise until later—he saw a large vase of white marble, situated in the midst of a circular space, on all sides surrounded with trees. The colonel, pushing aside some thick shrubs of Indian plants, enormous reeds which grow abundantly in that humid soil, hid himself some steps away from the fountain and quietly awaited events.

. . . . . . . . .

In order to sum up the chances of the safety or danger to which the mysterious dwellers at Devil's Cliff were exposed, we must remind the reader that De Chemerant had started from Fort Royal in the afternoon, and was advancing with all haste; that Father Griffen had hastily left Macouba in order to head off the French envoy; and that Colonel Rutler had secreted himself in the center of the garden.

We must now relate all that since the morning had passed over the heads of Youmäale, Blue Beard and the Chevalier de Croustillac.

THE SURPRISE.

We left the adventurer under the unexpected attack of a passion as sudden as it was sincere, and waiting impatiently the explanation, possibly the hope, which Blue Beard was about to give him.

After partaking of a repast respectfully served him by Angela, to the despair of the chevalier, the Caribbean gravely withdrew and seated himself on the border of a small lake, under the shadow of a mangrove tree which grew on its bank; then resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in the palms of his hands Youmäale gazed into space, and motionless maintained for a long time the contemplative idleness so dear to savage races.

Angela had re-entered the house. The chevalier walked up and down in the park, throwing, at intervals, a jealous and angry glance at the Caribbean. Impatient at the silence and immobility of his rival, and hoping, perhaps, to draw from him some information, Croustillac placed himself near Youmäale, who, however, did not appear to notice him. Croustillac moved and coughed; no change on the part of the Caribbean. Finally the chevalier, with whom patience was not a favorite virtue, touched him lightly on the shoulder and said, "What the devil have you been looking at for the past two hours? The sun is nearly setting, and you have not moved."

The Caribbean turned his head slowly toward the chevalier, looked fixedly at him, still resting his chin on his palms, and then resumed his former attitude, without replying.

The adventurer colored angrily, and said, "Zounds! when I speak, I wish to be answered."

The Caribbean maintained silence.

"These grand airs do not impress me," cried Croustillac. "I am not one of those to be eaten alive!"

No answer.

"Zounds!" continued the chevalier; "do you not know, stupid cannibal that you are, I can make you take an involuntary bath in the lake as a means to teach you manners, and in order to civilize you, you savage?"

Youmäale arose gravely, threw a disdainful glance at the chevalier, then pointed at an enormous trunk of a mahogany tree with gnarled roots which formed the rustic bench upon which he had been sitting.

"Well, what of it?" said the chevalier. "I see that trunk, but I do not understand your gesture, unless it signifies that you are as deaf and dumb and as stupid as that tree."

Without responding to this, the Caribbean stooped, took the trunk of the tree in his muscular arms, and threw it into the lake with a significant gesture, which seemed to say, "That is how I could treat you." Then he slowly withdrew, without having revealed in his features the slightest emotion.

The chevalier was stupefied by this proof of extraordinary strength; for the block of mahogany tree appeared to him, and in fact was, so heavy that two men could with difficulty have accomplished what the Caribbean unaided had done. His surprise having passed, the chevalier hastened after the savage, exclaiming, "Do you mean to say that you would have thrown me into the lake as you threw that trunk?"

The Caribbean, without pausing in his passage, bent his head affirmatively.

"After all," thought Croustillac, halting, "this eater of missionaries is not lacking in good sense; I threatened him first with throwing him into the water, and after what I have seen I am obliged to confess that I should have found it hard to do so, and then it would have been rather a dishonorable way in which to dispose of a rival! Ah, the evening is slow in coming. Thank God! the sun is setting, the night will soon fall; the moon will rise and I shall know my fate; the widow will tell me everything, I shall unravel all the profound mystery which is hidden from me now. Let me think over the sonnet which I have reserved for a grand effect—it is intended to describe the beauty of her eyes. Perhaps she has never heard a sonnet—possibly she will be sensible of its beauty and spirit; but no, I cannot hope for that happiness."

Pacing the path with long strides, Croustillac began to declaim his verses:

"They are not eyes, they are two gods,
Which are robed in power complete.
Gods? nay, they are the heavens——"

The adventurer was not to finish his verse, for Mirette came to inform him that her mistress was awaiting him at supper. The Caribbean never partook of this meal, and Croustillac was to be alone with the widow. She seemed dreamy and said little; she started involuntarily and frequently.

"What troubles you, madame?" said Croustillac, also preoccupied.

"I do not know; strange presentiments, but I am foolish. It is your gloomy face that gives me the blues," she added, with a forced smile. "Come, amuse me a little, chevalier. Youmäale is doubtless at this moment worshiping certain stars, and I am surprised at not seeing him; but it rests with you to make me forget his absence."

"Here is an excellent opportunity to produce my sonnet," said the Gascon to himself. "If I dared, madame, I would recite some little verses which might, perhaps, interest you."

"Verses—how? are you a poet, chevalier?"

"All lovers are, madame."

"That is an admission—you are in love, in order to be entitled to be a poet?"

"No, madame," said Croustillac sadly. "I am in love by right of suffering."

"And to chant your sad martyrdom—let us hear the verses."

"The verses, madame, do all in their power to picture two blue eyes, blue and beautiful, like yours; it is a sonnet."

"Let us have this sonnet."

And Croustillac recited the following lines in a languorous and impassioned tone:

"They are not eyes, rather gods are they,
They are above kings in power true.
Gods, no! they are the heavens of tender blue,
And their radiant glance makes kings obey."

"One must choose, chevalier," said Blue Beard; "are they eyes, or gods, or the heavens?"

Croustillac's reply was a happy one:

"The heavens, no! each a radiant sun
Whose burning rays but blind the view.
Suns? not so, but light so strong, so true,
They predict the love but just begun!"

"Really, chevalier, I am curious to know where you will stop. Suns, I own, please me; gods also."

Croustillac continued with a languorous softness:

"Ah! if gods, would they work me ill?
If the heavens, would add more sorrow still?
Two suns? 'tis false—that orb is one——"

"Ah, heavens, chevalier, you delight me; among all these charming comparisons there remains nothing more for me but lightening——"

Croustillac bowed his head:

"Stars! no, the stars are too many, too clear,
Always my meaning shineth still,
Eyes, gods, suns, and stars appear."

"How charming; at least, chevalier," said Angela, laughing, "you have given me a choice of comparisons, and I have but to select; therefore I shall keep them all—gods, heavens, suns and stars."

The adventurer looked at Blue Beard a moment in silence; then he said, in a tone the sadness of which was so sincere that the little widow was struck by it, "You are right, madame; this sonnet is absurd; you do well to mock at it, but what would you have? I am unhappy, I am justly punished for my mad presumption, my stupidity."

"Ah, chevalier, chevalier, you forget my request; I told you to divert me, to amuse me——"

"And if, in so doing, I suffer? if, in spite of my absurd situation, I experience a cruel mortification; how can I play the buffoon?"

The adventurer uttered these words quietly but in a penetrating tone, and with considerable emotion. Angela looked at him in astonishment, and was almost touched by the expression of the chevalier's face. She reproached herself for having played with this man's feelings; after all, he lacked neither heart, courage nor goodness; these reflections plunged the young woman into the midst of melancholy thoughts. In spite of the passing effort which she had made to be gay and to laugh at the sonnet of the Gascon, she was a prey to inexplicable forebodings, oppressed by vague fears, as if she felt instinctively the dangers that were gathering about her.

Croustillac had fallen into a sad reverie. Angela's eyes fell upon him and she felt sorry for him; she would no longer prolong the mystery of which he was a victim. She rose abruptly from the table and said to him, with a serious air, "Come, we will walk in the garden and rejoin Youmäale. His absence worries me. I do not know why, but I am oppressed as if a violent tempest were about to break upon this house."

The widow left the room, the chevalier offered her his arm, and they descended into the garden, where they sauntered through the different paths. The adventurer was so impressed by the anxious frame of mind in which he saw Angela that he retained little hope, and hardly dared to recall to her the promise which she had made him. Finally he said with some embarrassment, "You promised me, madame, to explain the mystery of——"

Blue Beard interrupted the chevalier by saying, "Listen to me, sir; whether it is owing to timidity or to premonition, I grow more and more agitated—it seems to me that misfortune menaces us; on no account would I at this time, and in the condition of my spirits, prolong any further a jest which has already lasted too long."

"A jest, madame?"

"Yes, sir; but I beg of you, let us descend to the lower terrace. Do you see Youmäale there?"

"No, madame; the night is very clear, but I see no one. You say, then, a jest only——"

"Yes, sir; I learned through our friend, Father Griffen, that you intended to offer yourself to me; I sent the buccaneer to meet you, charging him to bring you here. I received you with the intention, I confess, and I beg your pardon, of amusing myself a little at your expense."

"But, madame, this evening, even, you intended to explain to me the mystery of your triple widowhood—the death of your husbands and the presence successively, of the filibuster, the——"

Angela interrupted the Gascon by saying, "Do you not hear a footfall? Is it Youmäale?"

"I hear nothing," said Croustillac, overwhelmed in the view of his ruined hopes, though he held himself in readiness for anything, now that a true love had extinguished his stupid and foolish vanity.

"Let us go further," said Blue Beard; "the Caribbean is among the orange trees by the fountain, perhaps."

"But, madame, this mystery?"

"The mystery," replied Angela, "if it is one, cannot, must not be solved by you. My promise to reveal this secret to you to-night was a jest of which I am now heartily ashamed, I tell you; and if I kept this foolish promise it would be to make you the object of another mystery more culpable still."

"Ah, madame," said the chevalier quickly, "this is very cruel."

"What more would you ask, sir? I accuse myself and beg your pardon," said Angela, in a sweet and sad voice. "Forget the folly of what I have said; think no longer of my hand, which can belong to no one; but sometimes remember the recluse of Devil's Cliff, who is, perhaps, at once very culpable and very innocent. And then," she continued hesitatingly, "as a remembrance of Blue Beard, you will permit me, will you not, to offer you some of the diamonds of which you were so enamored before you had seen me."

The chevalier blushed with shame and anger; the pure feeling which he felt for Angela made him feel as derogatory an offer which at one time would, doubtless, have been accepted without the slightest scruple. "Madame," said he, with as much pride as bitterness, "you have accorded me hospitality for two days; to-morrow I shall leave; the only request I make of you is to give me a guide. As to your offer, it wounds me doubly——"

"Sir!"

"Yes, madame, that you should believe me low enough to accept payment for the humiliating circumstances——"

"Sir, such was not my idea."

"Madame, I am poor, I am ridiculous and vain; I am what is termed a man of expediencies; but even I have my point of honor."

"But, sir——"

"But, madame, that I should barter my pride and will as an exchange for the hospitality offered me, would be a bargain like another, worse than another, perhaps; so be it; when one places oneself in dependence upon another more fortunate than oneself, one must be content with anything. I entertained the captain of the Unicorn in exchange for my passage, which he gave me on board his vessel. We are quits. I have cut a contemptible figure, madame; I know it more fully than any one else, for I have known misfortune more fully."

"Poor man!" said the widow, touched by his avowal.

"I do not say this to be pitied, madame," said Croustillac proudly. "I only desire to make you understand that if, from necessity, I have been compelled to accept the part of a complacent guest, I have never received money as a compensation for an insult." Then he continued, in a tone of profound emotion, "Can you, madame, be ignorant of the wrong which has been done me by this proposition, not so much because it is humiliating, as because it was made by you? My God! you wished to amuse yourself with me: that I would have endured without complaint; but to offer me money to compensate for your raillery—ah! madame, you have made me acquainted with a misery of which I was heretofore ignorant." After a moment's silence he continued, with added bitterness, "After all, why should you have treated me otherwise? Who am I? Under what auspices did I come here? Even the clothes I wear are not my own! Why concern yourself with me?"

These last words of the poor man had an accent of such sincere grief and mortification that the young woman, touched by them, regretted deeply the indiscreet proffer she had made him. With bent head she walked beside Croustillac. They arrived, thus, near the fountain of white marble of which they had spoken.

The young widow still leaned on the adventurer's arm. After a few minutes of reflection she said, "You are right; I was wrong. I judged you wrongly. The compensation I offered you was almost an insult; but do not for a moment think that I wished to humiliate you. Recall what I said to you this morning of your courage and the generosity of your heart. Well, all this I still think. You say you love me; if this love is sincere it cannot offend me; it would be wrong in me to receive so flattering a feeling with contempt. So," she continued, with a charming air, "is peace declared? Are you still angry with me? Say no, that I may ask you to remain here some days as a friend, without fear of your refusal."

"Ah, madame," cried Croustillac, with transport "order, dispose of me—I am your servant, your slave, your dog. These kind words which you have spoken will make me forget all! Your friend! you have called me your friend! Ah, madame, why am I only the poor younger son of a Gascon? I should be so happy to have it in my power to prove my devotion."

"Who knows but that I have a reparation to make you? Await me here; I must go and look for Youmäale and find something, a present, yes, chevalier, a present which I defy you to refuse this time."

"But, madame——"

"You refuse? Ah, heavens! when I think that you desired to be my husband! Wait here, I will return." And so saying, Angela, who had reached the marble fountain, turned quickly into the path in the park on the side of the house.

"What does she wish to say—to do?" asked Croustillac of himself, looking mechanically into the fountain. Then he exclaimed, with fervor, "It is all the same, I am hers for life and death; she has called me her friend. I shall perhaps never see her again, but all the same, I worship her; that cannot hurt any one; and I do not know but that it will make me a better man. Two days ago I would have accepted the diamonds; to-day I would be ashamed to do so. It is wonderful how love changes one."

Croustillac was suddenly interrupted in the midst of his philosophical reflections. Colonel Rutler, by the uncertain light of the moon, had seen the adventurer walking arm in arm with Blue Beard; he had heard her last words—"my husband; wait for me here." Rutler had no doubt that the Gascon was the man for whom he was looking; he sprang suddenly from his hiding-place, hurled himself upon the chevalier threw a cloak over his face, and, profiting by Croustillac's surprise, felled him to the ground. Then he passed a rope around his hands and had quickly mastered his captive's resistance, thanks to great strength. The chevalier was thus overpowered, garroted and captured in less time than it has taken to write these words.

This accomplished, the colonel held a dagger at Croustillac's throat, and said, "My lord duke, you are dead if you make a movement, or if you call Madame the Duchess to your aid. In the name of William of Orange, King of England, I arrest you for high treason, and you will follow me."

MY LORD DUKE.

Suddenly attacked by an adversary of extraordinary strength, Croustillac did not even attempt to resist. The cloak which enveloped his head almost deprived him of breath. He could hardly utter a few inarticulate cries. Rutler leaned over him and said in English, with a strong Dutch accent, "My lord duke, I can remove this cloak, but beware, if you call for aid you are a dead man; can you feel the point of my dagger?"

The unfortunate Croustillac did not understand English, but he understood the dagger's point, and exclaimed, "Speak French!"

"I can understand that your grace, having been brought up in France, should prefer that language," replied Rutler, who believed that his Dutch accent made his words a little obscure, and he continued, "You must pardon me, my lord, if I do not express myself very well in French. I have the honor to inform your grace that at the slightest sound from you I shall be compelled to kill you. It depends upon you, my lord, to preserve your life or not, by preventing madame the duchess, your wife, from calling for aid if she returns."

"It is evident that he takes me for some one else," thought the chevalier. "In what devil of a network am I entangled? What is this new mystery? and who is this brutal Dutchman with his eternal dagger and his 'my lord duke?' After all, it is gratifying not to be taken for an insignificant man. And Blue Beard is a duchess and passes for my wife!"

"Listen, my lord," said Rutler after some moments of silence, "for your grace's greater convenience, I can free you from the cloak which enwraps you; but, I repeat, at the slightest cry from madame the duchess, the slightest indication of a rescue by your slaves, I shall be compelled to kill you. I have promised the king, my master, to bring you to him, dead or alive."

"I stifle! take off the cloak at once, I will not make any outcry," murmured Croustillac, believing that the colonel would discover his error.

Rutler removed the cloak which enveloped the face of the adventurer, who saw a man kneeling beside him and threatening him with a dagger. The night was clear; the chevalier could distinguish perfectly the features of the colonel; they were absolutely unknown to him.

"My lord! remember your promise," said Rutler, who did not evince the slightest surprise when the face of the adventurer was seen.

"How! he does not perceive his mistake," thought the astonished chevalier.

"Meanwhile, my lord," replied the colonel, assisting Croustillac to seat himself as comfortably as he could near the fountain, "meanwhile, my lord, pardon the rudeness of my attack, but I was forced to this."

Croustillac made no reply. Divided between fear and curiosity, he was burning to know to whom these words were addressed: 'My lord duke.' Naturally of an adventurous turn, he could not but be the gainer, doubtless by being taken for another, above all, for the husband of Blue Beard; and the chevalier resolved to play, as far as he could, the rôle which he had involuntarily assumed, hoping, possibly, to thus learn the secret of the dwellers of Devil's Cliff. He answered, however, "Are you sure, sir, that it is I whom you are seeking?"

"Your grace need not attempt to deceive me," said Rutler. "It is true that I have not had the honor of seeing you before to-day, my lord; but I heard your conversation with madame the duchess. Who but you, my lord, would be walking with her at this hour? Who but you would be dressed in this coat with the red sleeve, as shown by James Syllon, who painted you in this costume?"

"And I thought this costume so fantastic," reflected Croustillac.

"It is not for me to express surprise at finding you wearing these garments which must often recall memories so cruel," continued Rutler, with a gloomy air.

"Cruel memories!" repeated Croustillac.

"My lord," said the colonel, "two years before the fatal day of Bridgewater, dressed in this coat, did you not render homage to your royal father, when hunting at Lancaster?"

"To my royal father? a falcon?" said the chevalier, astounded.

"I understand your grace's embarrassment, and that you do not wish to recall these sad disputes for which you have been so severely and, permit me to say it, my lord, so justly punished."

"I will permit you to say anything to me, sir, in fact, I earnestly insist upon it without delay," replied the Gascon; and, aside, "perhaps I shall learn something in this way."

"Time is precious," said Rutler. "I must hasten to inform your grace that I only await your submission to the commands of my master, William of Orange, King of England."

"Speak, sir, and do not hesitate to enter into the most minute details."

"In order to make you understand, your grace, what remains for me to exact from you, it is very necessary to establish clearly your position, my lord, however painful the duty may be."

"Establish it, sir, speak frankly; hold back nothing. We are men and soldiers; we should know how to hear all things."

"You acknowledge, then, that from this moment you cannot escape."

"That is true."

"That your life is in my hands."

"That is also true."

"But that, which must be a very great consideration, my lord, is that, in attempting to escape, or in refusing to obey the orders which I bear, you put me to the hard necessity of killing you."

"A hard necessity for both of us, sir."

"Then your grace will give strict attention to what I have to say," said the colonel, emphasizing the following words: "I can with the more impunity kill you, my lord, because you are already dead—and therefore it would not be necessary to render an account for shedding your blood."

The chevalier looked at Rutler with a stupefied air, thinking he must have heard him wrong. "You say, sir, that you could with the more impunity kill me?"

"Since your grace is already dead," said Rutler, with a sinister smile.

Croustillac looked at him more closely, believing he was dealing with a madman; then he said, after a moment's silence, "If I understand you aright, sir, you wish to make me believe that you could kill me with impunity, under the pretext, specious enough, that I am already dead!"

"Exactly, my lord; that is very simple."

"You think that very simple, sir?"

"I do not think you wish to deny, my lord, what is known to all the world," said Rutler impatiently.

"It seems to me that, without wishing to pass for a man who has lost his head, and who is dominated with a desire to contradict the whole world, I must still to a certain extent deny that I am dead."

"I would not have believed, my lord, that you could jest at such a moment, you who always carry with you such frightful memories," said the colonel, with gloomy surprise.

"Certainly, sir, at such a moment one cannot forget himself. That which is more difficult is to retain memory," said Croustillac, smiling.

The colonel could not prevent a gesture of indignation, and cried, "You smile! when it is at the price of the noblest blood that you are here! Ah, such then will always be the gratitude of princes!"

"I must say to you, sir," impatiently replied Croustillac, "that it is not of gratitude or ingratitude that we speak in this matter, and that—but," he continued, fearing to make some blunder, "but it seems to me that we wander strangely from the question at issue. I prefer to speak of something else."

"I can imagine that such a subject would be disagreeable to your grace."

"It is not a lively one, sir, certainly; but return to the motive which has brought you hither—what do you wish of me?"

"I am ordered, my lord, to conduct you to the Barbadoes; from there you will be transported and incarcerated in the Tower of London, of which your grace has retained remembrance."

"Zounds! to prison!" said the Gascon to himself, to whom this prospect was not inviting; "to prison—in the Tower of London! I must inform this Dutch animal of his mistake; this mistaken identity no longer pleases me. The devil! to the Tower of London! this is paying for 'your grace' and 'my lord' rather too dearly!"

"It is unnecessary for me to say to you, my lord, that you will be treated with the respect due to your misfortunes and your rank. Except for liberty, which can never be accorded you, you will be surrounded by care and consideration."

"After all," thought Croustillac, "why should I hasten to dissuade this northern bear? I have no hope, alas, of interesting Blue Beard in my martyrdom. It seems to me that I perceive vaguely that the mistake of this Dutchman in my person may serve this adorable little creature. If that is so, I shall be delighted. Once having reached England, the mistake will be discovered and I set free; and, as it is best, after all, that I return to Europe, I should like better if it were possible, to return in the character of a great prince, a lord, than as a free passenger of Captain Daniel's. I shall not at least be compelled to balance forks on the end of my nose nor be reduced to swallowing lighted candles."

The colonel, taking the Gascon's silence for despair, said to him, in a gentler tone, "I suppose your grace perceives with pain the future before you. There is enough occasion for it, it seems to me."

"To be a prisoner always in the Tower of London?"

"Yes, my lord; but you cannot enjoy much liberty here; perhaps this life of agony and continual unrest is not so much to be regretted?"

"You wish to gild the pill, as they say, sir; your motive is praiseworthy; but you appear very certain of carrying me to Barbadoes, and from there to the Tower of London?"

"To accomplish this, my lord, I had brought with me a most determined man. He is dead, however—a most frightful death." And Rutler trembled in spite of himself at the remembrance of John's death.

"And so, sir, you were reduced to accomplish this expedition yourself?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And you flatter yourself that you can carry me off, unaided?"

"Yes, my lord."

"You are sure of that?"

"Perfectly sure."

"And by means of what miracle?"

"There is no need of a miracle; the thing is very simple, my lord."

"May I know it?"

"You must be informed of it, my lord, because I count principally upon your assistance."

"To enable you to carry me off?"

"Yes, my lord."

"The fact is, that, without vanity, I can, under these circumstances, if I mix myself in the matter, be of some help to you?"

After a moment's reflection, Rutler said, "Your firmness has not been exaggerated, your grace; it would be impossible to show a more resolute spirit or more coolness under ill fortune."

"I assure you, sir, that it would be difficult for me to bear it otherwise."

"If I have spoken thus my lord, it is because you, being a man of coolness and resolution, can understand better than any one what must be accepted with coolness and resolution, for I have no choice but to carry you away from here."

"Listen, sir; if the expedient is good, I will be the first to acknowledge it. One moment, however; you seem to forget that I am not here alone."

"I know that, my lord; madame the duchess has but just quitted you, she may return any moment."

"And not alone, I warn you of that."

"Were she accompanied by a hundred armed men I should not fear."

"Truly?"

"No, my lord, I will go further; I rather count upon the return of the duchess to decide you to follow me in case you still hesitate."

"Sir you speak in riddles."

"I will tell you the word very soon my lord, but first I must inform you that almost all is known concerning you since your flight from London."

"In denying this to him I shall force him to speak; and I shall perhaps learn something more," said the chevalier to himself. "As to that, sir I, cannot believe it; it is not possible."

"Listen to me, my lord; it is now four years since you espoused in France the mistress of this house. Whether the marriage be legal or not, having been contracted after your execution, and consequently during the widowhood of your first wife, does not concern me—that is a matter for your conscience and the church."

"Decidedly my friend the duke has placed himself in an exceptional position," said Croustillac to himself, "he can be murdered because he is dead; and he can remarry because his wife is his widow! I begin to have my ideas singularly mixed, for since yesterday very strange things have come to my knowledge."

"You see, my lord, that my information is exact."

"Exact—exact—to a certain point. You believe me capable of having remarried after my execution; that is rather risky. The devil! sir, one must be very sure of his facts, at least, to attribute to men such original proceedings."

"Hold, my lord, you doubtless do not believe in my authority, and you jest; but your gayety does not surprise me; your grace has kept his freedom of spirit in circumstances more serious than this."

"What would you wish, sir? gayety is the wealth of the poor."

"My lord," cried the colonel, in a severe tone, "the king, my master, does not merit this reproach."

"What reproach?" said the Gascon, stupefied.

"Your grace said that gayety is the wealth of the poor."

"Well, sir, I do not see what there is to insult your master, the king, in that."

"Is it not equivalent to saying, my lord, that because you see yourself in the power of my master that you look upon yourself as despoiled of everything?"

"You are sensitive, sir. Be assured this reflection was purely philosophical and did not have reference to my particular position."

"That is different, my lord; but I am astonished to hear you speak of your poverty."

"Zounds! that has often made me bitterly lament," said Croustillac, laughing.

"Few fortunes equal yours, sir. The enormous sum you received from the sale of a portion of your precious stones will be secured to you and yours. William of Orange, my master, is not one of those who enrich themselves by confiscating the goods of their political enemies."

"I did not know thou wast so rich, poor Croustillac," said the Gascon to himself. "If I had known this, how little would I have swallowed candles for the amusement of that brute of a sea captain." Then he continued, aloud, "I am aware of the generosity of your master, sir; also of my goods and treasures." And the Gascon said to himself, "It does me good to say this for once in my life—my goods, my treasures."

"The king, my master, my lord, has directed me to say to you that you can charter a vessel to carry your wealth to England."

"Oh, my old pink hose, my old green coat, my felt hat and my old sword!" said Croustillac to himself; "those are my real possessions, my real and personal estate! It would not take a merchant ship to transport them." Then he continued aloud, "But let us return to the motive, sir, which brought you here, and to the discoveries which you have made as to my past life."

"For the past three years, my lord, you have lived on this island, remaining hidden to every one, and causing to be spread by a filibuster and others in your pay the strangest stories concerning your house, in order to keep the curious away."

"I do not understand this at all," thought Croustillac. "Blue Beard—no, the widow, that is to say—no, the duchess or rather the wife of the man who is dead, who is a widower—in fact, the wife of no matter whom, is not, then, behind the best of them with her three oddities. For I have seen with my own eyes her strange familiarity with them. I have heard—come, come, if this lasts but a little longer I shall become mad; I am beginning to feel stupid and to see an endless succession of Roman candles in my head!"

THE SURPRISE.

Rutler continued: "The maneuvers of your emissaries were crowned with perfect success, my lord, and it was due to the merest chance that your existence was revealed to my master, some two months since, and in order to inform him that without your knowledge, or without your full consent, they would make, my lord, a dangerous instrument of you."

"Of me? an instrument of me? and what kind of an instrument, sir?"

"Your grace knows that as well as I do; the policy of the cabinet at Versailles and of the papal court at Saint-Germain recoils before no means; it matters little to them that civil war shall lay waste an unhappy country provided their plans succeed. I have no need to say more, my lord."

"Yes, sir, yes. I desire that you tell me everything; I would see to what point your credulity has been abused. Explain, sir."

"The proof that my credulity has not been abused, my lord, is that my mission has for its end the ruin of the projects of an emissary from France, who, with or without the co-operation of your grace, may arrive at any moment at this island."

"I give you my word of honor, sir, that I am ignorant of the arrival of this French emissary."

"I must believe you, my lord. However, certain rumors have caused the king to think that your grace, forgetting his old resentment against James Stuart, your uncle, had written to this dethroned king to offer him his services."

"James Stuart, being dethroned," said Croustillac, with an accent full of dignity, "changes entirely the face of things, and I should have been able to condescend in regard to my uncle to proceedings which my pride would never have permitted me before."

"Then, my lord, from your point of view, your resolve would not have lacked generosity."

"Doubtless I could perfectly well, without compromitting myself, have been reconciled to a dethroned king," replied Croustillac courageously; "but I have not done so; I swear it on the honor of a gentleman."

"I believe you, your grace."

"Well, then, your mission has no further object."

"You understand, my lord, that, in spite of this guarantee, circumstances may change, and your resolve change with circumstances. The hope of ascending the throne of England causes one to forget many promises and to evade many agreements. Far be it from me to wish to reproach you for the past, but your grace knows what must be sacrificed when one lays audacious hands upon the crown of three kingdoms."

"Zounds!" said Croustillac to himself; "it seems that my hand is not dead, and that I am, clearly, a courageous fellow to be well caged. If I only knew how all this would end I should be very much amused."

"The king can never forget, my lord, that you have your own aspirations to the throne."

"Ah, well, that is true," cried Croustillac, with an expression of frankness—"it is true, I do not deny. But what would you have? ambition, glory, the vigor of youth! But believe me, sir," continued he with a sigh and speaking in a melancholy tone, "age robs us of all that and makes us wise; with added years, ambition is extinguished and one becomes content with very little in one's retreat. Once safely in port, we can cast a philosophical glance on the storms of passion and cultivate the paternal lands, if one has such, or at least look upon the tide of life placidly when about to be swallowed up in the ocean of eternity. In a word, you understand, sir, that if in our first youth we have let ourselves go at an audacious pace it does not follow that in our ripe age we should not realize that all is vanity. I live obscurely and peacefully in the bosom of my retreat, with a young and lovely wife; loved by those about me and doing some good. Ah, sir, this is the only life that I desire; I do not hesitate, then, in confirmation of these words, to swear to you that I will never raise the slightest pretension to the throne of England; on the word of a gentleman, I have not the slightest desire to."

"Unhappily, my lord, I am not at liberty to take your oath; the king, alone, could receive it, and accept it if it seemed well to him, as a sufficient guarantee against fresh troubles. As for me, I have been ordered to conduct your grace to London, and I must fulfill my orders."

"You are very persistent, sir. When you have an idea, you keep to it."

"At whatever cost, my lord, I must carry out the orders given me. You can see by the perfectly calm interview between us that I do not doubt the success of my undertaking; your grace fully understands the motives that influence me; and I do not doubt that you will follow me without the slightest resistance."

Croustillac had prolonged this interview as far as he could; he had decided either to follow the colonel or to tell him the whole truth. He then said to Rutler, "And suppose, sir, that I consent to follow you willingly, what will be the order of our march, as they say?"

"Your grace, though your hands are tied, permit me to offer you my left arm; I shall hold my dagger in my right hand, ready at any moment to plunge it into you, in case of a surprise, and we will proceed to your house."

"And then, sir?"

"Once having reached your house, my lord, you will order one of your slaves at once to direct your negro fishermen to get their boat in readiness; it will suffice to transport us to Barbadoes. In that place we will find a man-of-war which awaits us, and on board which, my lord, you will be transported to London, and placed in the custody of the governor of the Tower."

"And you seriously believe, sir, that I will myself give the order to prepare for my own abduction?"

"Yes, my lord, and for a very simple reason; your grace will feel the point of this dagger."

"Yes, doubtless; you always go back to that, you repeat it often, sir."

"We Dutchmen have little imagination; what would you have? There is nothing more churlish than our manner of acting; but to resume, what is more to the point, this blade of steel will suffice, for if you refuse to obey my slightest injunction, my lord, I have already said by way of warning that I shall kill you without mercy."

"I have also said to you, sir, that your manner of proceeding does not lack originality; but I have slaves—friends, sir—and you see that, in spite of your bravery——"

"My God! your grace, if I kill you it is evident that I shall be killed in turn, either by your slaves or your familiars, the filibuster or the buccaneer, or by the French authorities, who would do perfectly right in shooting me because I come from England, and I have come to this island, which is considered as a stronghold in time of war."

"You perceive, then, sir, that my death will not go unpunished?"

"In accepting this charge I made, in advance, the offering of my life. All that I desire, my lord, is that you shall no longer be the source of fear to my master, a source of trouble for England. King William does not love bloodshed, but he hates civil war. Your perpetual imprisonment or your death alone can reassure him; choose, then, my lord, between the dagger or prison; it must be one; you must become my prisoner or my victim. Moreover, if you were not absolutely in my power I would not say to you, at the price of my life, what I will now say."

"Speak, sir."

"This confidence, while showing you the evil which you can do to England, my lord, also will show you what interest King William has that an enemy like yourself should be rendered powerless to act; the companions of your rebellion, who saw you beheaded before their own eyes, cherish still for you the dearest memories."

"Truly? This does not surprise me in them, and it is the more disinterested in that they all believe that I can never thank them for it." Then Croustillac said to himself, "It must be that this Dutchman, who otherwise is reasonable enough, has a craze on this point—a fixed idea concerning my execution."

The colonel continued, "Ah, my lord, you pay dearly for your influence."

"Very dearly, too dearly, sir, if this be so."

"Why do you wish to deny it, when your enemies remember? when it is known that your followers cherish portions of your clothing, stained with your blood, as if holy relics, and each day lament your death? What would be the result if you should suddenly appear before their eyes? What enthusiasm would you not arouse? I repeat to you, my lord, it is because your influence might be fatal in these troublous times, that it must be neutralized at any cost."

"To stab a man or imprison him for life is what you call neutralizing his influence," said Croustillac. "Ah, well, this is probably a political view of it. After all, I understand the distrust that I inspire you with, for I am an incorrigible conspirator. They cut off my head before my partisans, believing that thus I will be reformed. Not at all! instead of taking warning by this paternal admonition, I conspire still further. It is evident that this ends by making your master impatient. Ah, well, sir, he is unnecessarily moved; for the last time, I solemnly declare, before heaven, that I shall conspire no more; he can rest in peace on his throne, and his crown does not excite in me the slightest covetousness. Is this plain enough, sir?"

"Very plain, and well put, my lord; but I must carry out the commands of the king. When we shall have arrived at your house, I shall have the honor to transmit to you an autograph letter of His Majesty King William, which will leave you in no doubt as to the purpose and authority of the mission with which I am intrusted. Come, my lord, resign yourself; it is the fortune of war. Beside, if you hesitate, I can count upon a powerful ally."

"And that is——"

"Informed by me of the fate which menaces you, you proceed under the touch of my dagger."

"Always his eternal dagger! he is insufferable with his dagger," thought Croustillac. "He has but one word on his tongue."

"The duchess," continued Rutler, "would far rather see you a prisoner than killed; it is well known how she loves you, how devoted she is to you. She would give her life for you. She will aid, then, I am sure, in making you face your position wisely. Meanwhile, my lord, choose; either summon some of your people, if they can hear you, or show me to your house yourself, for your departure must be hastened."

It must be said to Croustillac's credit, that, learning that Blue Beard was the wife of an invisible lord whom she loved passionately, and that he had been taken for this grand lord, he generously resolved to be of some use to this young wife by prolonging as far as possible the mistaken identity of which he was the victim, and to allow himself to be carried off in place of the unknown duke. Happy at the thought that Angela would be under a great obligation, the Gascon resigned himself courageously to submit to all the consequences of the position which he had accepted, only he did not know in what manner he could leave Devil's Cliff without the discovery of his stratagem.

"My lord, I am at your service; it is absolutely imperative that we depart at once," said the colonel impatiently.

"It is I who am at your service," replied the chevalier, who viewed with some disquiet the approach of the critical moment of this interview.

A brilliant idea struck Croustillac; he saw a means of escaping from this danger and of saving the mysterious husband of Blue Beard. "Listen, sir," said the adventurer, assuming an impressive manner. "I give you my word as a gentleman that I will follow you willingly wherever you lead me, but I desire that my wife, the duchess, shall not be informed of my arrest until I have gone."

"How, my lord, you are willing to thus abandon your wife without telling her of your sad situation?"

"Yes, because of reasons known to me alone, and then I would spare myself farewells, which must always be distressing."

"My orders concern you alone, my lord," said the colonel; "you are free to act as seems best to yourself, as far as the duchess is concerned. Nothing could be easier, it seems to me, than to do what you propose. If your wife is astonished at your departure, you can plead the imperative necessity of a journey of some days' duration to St. Pierre. As to my presence here, you can easily explain that. We will go, and your boat will take us to the Barbadoes."

"Doubtless, doubtless," said the embarrassed Gascon, for he saw a number of dangers in the proposition which the colonel made. "Doubtless my departure might be easily explained so, but to give my orders to the negroes, to cause a commotion in the house, would attract my wife's attention. She is extremely timid and is alarmed at everything. Your presence here would arouse her suspicions, and they would necessarily lead up to the painful scene which I would avoid at all cost."

"But, then, my lord, what shall we do?"

"There is a sure way, sir; however dangerous may have been the road by which you have arrived, let us follow it; we will leave the island by the same method by which you reached it. Once at the Barbadoes I will inform my wife of my abduction—the cruel abduction which separates me forever from her; and you will swear to me that she shall not be disturbed after my departure."

"Unfortunately, my lord, what you propose is impossible."

"How is that?"

"I came by way of the pearl diver's cavern, my lord."

"Well, can we not leave by the pearl diver's cavern?"

"Is it possible that you are ignorant, my lord, of the secret communication which exists between this cavern and the abyss which surrounds your park?"

"I am entirely ignorant as to it, but if this communication exists, can we not use it to leave by?"

"That is impossible, my lord; no one can enter the cavern except by allowing the waves to precipitate him to the bottom of a subterranean lake, after having descended a cataract."

"And in order to get out of this cavern?"

"You must ascend a waterfall twenty feet in height."

"That is too much for me. So, the vessel that brought you to the outside of this cavern——"

"Has already left for the Barbadoes, my lord. It could approach this island in spite of the French cruisers only because this coast is inaccessible."

"I thought that this road was impenetrable," said the chevalier, overcome.

"If you will believe me, my lord, you will limit yourself to announcing to madame the duchess that you will be absent for several days only. I have faith in your word as a gentleman that you will make no attempt to escape from my hands."

"I have given you my word, sir."

"I believe you, my lord, and my dagger answers to me for its fulfillment."

"I should have been very much astonished if the dagger had not reappeared," thought Croustillac. "He trusts implicitly in my word; that does not prevent his trusting as much to his dagger. Zounds! what distrust! But that is not what concerns me. What shall I do? The duchess is not prepared; the slaves will not obey me if I give them orders. It is no use; behold me at the end of my falsehoods."

Croustillac had forced himself to become resigned to his assumption. He regretted sincerely that he was not to be permitted to devote himself more efficaciously to the service of Blue Beard; for he did not doubt that his ruse would be discovered the moment he put foot in the house. He had shortly another apprehension. The Caribbean, seeing Croustillac return accompanied by a stranger armed to the teeth, would attack the colonel. Now, the latter had assured the adventurer that at the first attack he would be compelled to kill him without mercy.

The chevalier began to find his rôle less diverting and to curse the stupid curiosity, the imprudent heedlessness which had thrown him into a position as complicated as it was dangerous.

THE DEPARTURE.

The spirit of Croustillac was too mercurial and too adventurous to remain long under the weight of fear or sadness. He reasoned as follows: To-day, as heretofore, I have little or nothing to lose; if I decide to go out from this house, I continue to pass for the duke, and I am treated like a prince until some one discovers the imposition; then I shall become big John as heretofore, and I shall have rendered a great service to this pretty little Blue Beard, who has mocked at me, but who enchants me, for she interests me more than I wish, more than she merits perhaps, for, in spite of her love for this invisible husband, she appears to me madly tender with the buccaneer and that other brute, the cannibal. Well, what does it matter if it is my caprice to devote myself to this little woman? I am surely my own master; yes! but if, on the other hand, I do not leave this place? Suppose the Caribbean mixes himself in the affair, this would spoil all; it is clear that I shall be killed like a dog by this thick-headed Belgian. How, then, can I escape such a catastrophe? Say at once to the man with the dagger that I am not the duke? This might save me, perhaps, but no! this would be cowardice, and useless cowardice; for, to prevent my alarming the house, this beer-drinker would dispatch me at once. Yes, yes, in spite of my word as a gentleman not to seek to escape, he presses near me. Zounds! this man with his dagger is absurd! Bah! his dagger! he can only kill me once, after all. Come, then, courage! courage! Croustillac! and above all do not deliberate—this brings you sorrow; you never commit greater stupidities or more tremendous mistakes than when you deliberate. Commend yourself to your lucky star, shut your eyes, as usual, and go ahead.

Reassured by this excellent logic, the chevalier said aloud, "Well, sir, as we must absolutely pass the house in order to get out of this, let us go on."

"Sir," said the colonel, after a moment's reflection, "you have given me your word as a gentleman not to escape."

"Yes, sir."

"But your people will wish to free you?"

"My life is in your hands, sir; you have my word; I can do no more."

"That is true, my lord; but then, in your interest, warn your slaves that the slightest act against me, on their part, will cost your life, for I have sworn, also, that I will carry you away, dead or living."

"It will not be my fault, sir, if you do not keep your word; come on." And the chevalier and the colonel advanced toward the house.

Rutler held the arm of Croustillac under his left arm, and had his hand constantly on his dagger; not that he doubted the word of his prisoner, but the slaves at Devil's Cliff might wish to rescue their master.

Croustillac and Rutler were not more than a few steps from the house when from an obscure path a woman advanced dressed in white. The colonel stopped, pressed firmly the arm of his prisoner, and said aloud, "Who is this? My lord, warn this woman not to cry out."

"It is Blue Beard! I am lost; she will scream like a peacock, and all will be discovered," thought Croustillac. To his great astonishment the woman paused and did not speak. The Gascon said, "Who is it, then?"

"Is it so dark that my lord cannot recognize Mirette?" said the well-known voice of Blue Beard.

Croustillac was speechless with astonishment. Blue Beard also called him my lord, and assumed the name of Mirette! "Zounds!" he said to himself, "I understand nothing, nothing at all; all becomes more and more obscure; all the same, hold steady and play out the game."

"Who is this woman?" said the colonel, in a low tone.

"She is the confidential maid of my wife," responded the chevalier.

Angela spoke: "My lord, I come to say to your grace that my lady retired not feeling very well; but she is asleep now."

"All is in our favor, sir," said the colonel, in a low voice to Croustillac. "Madame the duchess is asleep; you can depart without her knowing anything about it."

Angela, who had approached, said with a frightened manner, and retreating a few steps, "Heavens! your grace is not alone, then?"

"My lord," said the colonel, "if she gives a cry it is all over with you."

"Do not be afraid, Mirette," said the chevalier; "while you were with my wife this gentleman arrived; he came from Fort Royal on pressing business; it is necessary that I should accompany him back."

"So late, my lord, but you must not think of it! I will go and inform madame."

"No! no! I forbid it; but I shall have need at once of the negro fishermen and their canoe; go and notify them."

"But, my lord——"

"Obey."

"That is not hard; to-morrow morning they fish in the open sea; the negroes must be nearly ready to go; in order to be before dawn at the Creek of Caymans, where their boat is moored."

"My lord, all favors us; you see it; let us go," said the colonel in a low voice.

"It is astonishing how Blue Beard anticipates my demands; and how she facilitates my departure," said Croustillac to himself; "there is something very strange under this. I was not, perhaps, altogether wrong in accusing her of magic or necromancy." Then he continued aloud, "You will go and open the outer gates, Mirette, and tell the blacks to prepare themselves at once. Well," said Croustillac, seeing the woman remain motionless, "did you not hear me?"