After the session, during which, in his function of syndic of the overseers of the port, he had declared the condemnation of Raimond V., the watchman of Cape l’Aigle returned to his sentry-box, temporarily entrusted to the care of the brave Luquin Trinquetaille.

Peyrou was sad; the last words of the Baron des Anbiez on the subject of the commander had awakened the most painful memories.

But as he ascended the steep fortifications of the promontory, his heart expanded. Too much accustomed to solitude to find enjoyment in the society of men, the watchman was happy only when he was on the summit of his rock, where he listened in sweet meditation to the distant roaring of the sea and the terrible bursts of the tempest.

Nothing is more absolute, nothing is more imperious, than the habit of isolation, especially among those who find inexhaustible resources in their own power of observation or in the varied extravagance of their own imagination.

It was with a profound feeling of satisfaction that the watchman set foot upon the esplanade of Cape l’Aigle.

He approached his sentry-box, and there found the worthy Luquin fast asleep.

Peyrou’s first act was to scan the horizon with an anxious look, then to examine it with the aid of his telescope. Happily, he saw nothing suspicious, and his countenance took on rather a cheerful than a severe expression, when, roughly shaking the captain of The Holy Terror to the Moors, he called to him, in a loud voice:

“Wake up, wake up! the pirates!”

Luquin made a bound and stood on his feet, rubbing his eyes.

“Ah, well, my boy,” said the watchman, “so your great activity has fallen asleep. To hear you talk, one would think a doree or a mullet could not have made a leap in the sea without you knowing it. Ah, young man, young man, the old Proven?al proverb, Proun paillou, prou gran,—Much straw, little grain.”

Luquin looked at the watchman with a bewildered expression, and was hardly able to collect his faculties; finally, reeling like a drunken man, he said, stretching his arms: “It is true, Master Peyrou, I slept like a cabin-boy on the watch, but I did keep my eyes open with all my strength.”

“That is the reason, my boy, sleep got into them so easily. But I am here now, and you can go down into the city. There will be more than one bottle of wine emptied without your help at the tavern of the Golden Anchor.”,

Luquin had not entirely come to himself, and he stood staring at the watchman with a stupid air.

Peyrou, no doubt, trying to wake the captain entirely from his condition of torpor, added: “Come, come now, Stephanette, your betrothed, will be engaged to dance with Terzarol, the pilot, or with the patron Bernard, and you will not have her hand once the whole day long.”

These words produced a magic effect on the captain; he straightened himself on his long legs, shook himself, tried to keep his equilibrium, and, finally stamping on the ground several times, said to the watchman:

“Listen, Master Peyrou, if I were not sure of having swallowed only one glass of sauve-chrétien with that devil of a Bohemian, to make peace with him, because Stephanette wanted me to do it,—a base weakness for which I cannot forgive myself,—I should certainly think I was drunk,” said the captain.

“That is strange, you drank only one glass of sauve-chrétien with the Bohemian, and you are overcome by it?”

“Only one glass, and that only half full, because what you drink with a miscreant like him tastes very bitter.” “Is this Bohemian always at Maison-Forte, pray?” asked Peyrou, with a thoughtful and serious air.

“Always, Master Peyrou, for everybody there dotes on him, from monseigneur to Abbé Mascarolus. He is in high favour with the women, from Mlle. Reine to old Dulceline, without speaking of Stephanette, who gave him a flame-coloured ribbon—flame-coloured ribbons, indeed!” exclaimed Luquin, with indignation. “It is a ribbon woven by the rope-maker that this wretch needs! But what can you do? All the women have their heads turned. And why? Because this vagabond strums, good and bad together, in some sort of fashion, an old guitar, so hoarse that it sounds like the pulleys of my tartan, when they hoist the big sail.”

“Did not the Bohemian arrive at Maison-Forte the day Raimond V. had the recorder chased by a bull?” “Yes, Master Peyrou, it was on that fatal day that this stray dog set foot in Maison-Forte.”

“That is strange!” said the watchman, talking to himself. “Then I was mistaken.”

“Ah, Master Peyrou, I am often seized with a desire to conduct this vagabond out to the cove beach, and exchange pistol-shots with him until either he or I come to our death.”

“Come, come, Luquin, you are foolish, jealousy makes you wild, and you are wrong. Stephanette is a good and honest girl, I can tell you. As to this vagabond—”

Then interrupting himself, as if he wished to keep what he was about to say secret from Luquin, he added: “Come, come, my boy, do not lose your time with a poor old man, while your young and pretty betrothed is waiting for you. Do not neglect her; be with her often, and marry her as soon as possible. There is another Proven?al proverb: A boueno taire bouen labourraire,—A good labourer for good soil.”

“Wait, Master Peyrou, you put balm in my blood,” said the captain. “You are almost as good as a sorcerer. Everybody respects you and loves you; you take Stephanette’s part, so she must deserve it.”

“By Our Lady, she deserves it without a doubt. Did she not come before your departure for Nice, and ask me if you could undertake the voyage with safety?”

“That is true, Master Peyrou, and thanks to you and your cabalistic papers that I put on my bullets, and to your oil of Syrakoe, not less magical, with which I rubbed my muskets and cannon, I gave a hot chase to a corsair that came near, indiscreetly near, the Terror to the Moors and the vessels she was escorting. Ah, you are a great man, Master Peyrou.”

“And those who heed my counsels are wise and sensible,” replied the watchman, smiling. “Now the wise never allow their betrothed to grow weary of waiting.”

After having thanked the watchman again, Luquin Trinquetaille decided to profit by the advice given with regard to Stephanette, and went in all haste to Maison-Forte.

Finding himself alone, Peyrou breathed a sigh of content, as if he felt again that he was master of his little kingdom.

Although he received those who came to consult him with kindly courtesy, he saw them depart with a secret pleasure.

He entered his little cell and sighed deeply after having contemplated for some time the costly piece of ebony furniture which always seemed to awaken painful memories in his mind; then, as night came on, he wrapped himself in his thick hood and coat.

Thus well protected from the north wind which was blowing, Peyrou lit his pipe, and surveyed with sadness the immense horizon which was spread out before him.

As we have said, the house of Maison-Forte could be distinctly seen from the western side of the summit of Cape l’Aigle.

It was about three o’clock, a............