He wore the simple sailor costume which greatly enhanced his grace and beauty.

“Here comes our bashful lover, our modest wooer,” said Trimalcyon, seeing him.

As a reply, the young sailor, appreciative of this pleasantry, threw off his mantle, embroidered in jet-black silk, gave a kiss to Swan-skin, caressed Orangine’s chin, and, taking up a silver goblet from the table, extended it to Trimalcyon as he exclaimed:

“To the health of Reine des Anbiez, the future favourite of my harem!”

Pog threw a piercing glance on Erebus, and said, in a measured, hollow voice:

“These words come from his lips, his heart will give the lie to his language.”

“You are mistaken, Captain Pog; only land your demons on the beach of La Ciotat, and you will see if the brightness of the flames which will broil the French in their hole will prevent my following Hadji to the castle of that old Proven?al.”

“And once in that castle, what will you do, my boy?” said Trimalcyon, with a mocking air. “Will you ask if the beautiful girl has not a skein of silk to wind, or if she will permit you to hold her mirror while she combs her hair?”

“Be quiet, Full-Bottle, I will employ my time well. I will sing for her the song of the emir, a song worthy of Beni-Amer, which that fox, Hadji, made her listen to so well.”

“And if the old Proven?al finds your voice disagreeable, he will give you a leather strap, as if you were a badly taught child, my boy,” said Trimalcyon.

“I will reply to the old gentleman by seizing his daughter in my arms, and singing to him those verses of Hadji:

     “‘Till sixteen years old, the daughter belongs to her father.

     “At sixteen years old, the daughter belongs to the lover.’”
 

“And if the good man insists, you will give him, for your last word, your kangiar to end the conversation?” “That comes of course, Empty-Cup. Who carries off the daughter, kills the father,” added Erebus, with an ironical smile.

Trimalcyon wagged his head, and said to Pog, who seemed more and more absorbed in his gloomy thoughts: “The young peacock is laughing at us, he is jesting, he will do some shepherd-swain nonsense with that girl.” “Has the French spy returned from the islands?” asked Pog of Erebus.

“Not yet, Captain Pog,” replied the young sailor; “he departed with his stick and his wallet, disguised as a beggar. He will be here, without doubt, in an hour. I waited for him in vain. Seeing that he did not arrive, I came in my long-boat; the barge which landed him on the shore will bring him back here. But shall we attack La Ciotat or Marseilles, Captain Pog?”

“Marseilles, unless the report of the spy makes me change my opinion,” said Pog.

“And on our return, shall we not stop a moment at La Ciotat?” asked Erebus. “Hadji is expecting us.”

“And your beautiful maiden also, my boy. Ah! ah! you are more impatient to see her beautiful eyes than the gaping mouths of the cannon of the castle,” said Trimalcyon, “and you are right, I do not reproach you for it.”

“By the cross of Malta, which I abhor!” cried Erebus, with impatience, “I would rather never see that lovely girl in the cabin of my chebec than not to sound my war-cry at the attack of Marseilles. Captain Pog knows that in all our combats with the French or with the galleys of religion, my arm, although young, has dealt some heavy blows.”

“Be quiet! whether we attack Marseilles or not, you will be able to approach La Ciotat with your chebec and carry off your maiden. I will not allow you to lose this new chance of damning your soul, my dear child,” said Pog, with a sinister laugh.

“My soul? You have always told me, Captain Pog, that I had no soul,” replied the unhappy Erebus, with a bantering indifference.

“You do not see, my boy, that Captain Pog is jesting,” said Trimalcyon, “as far as the soul is concerned; but as for your beauty, by Sardanapalus! we will carry her off; the pains of Hadji and your mysterious gallantries shall not be lost, although, in my opinion, you were wrong to make yourself as romantic as an ancient Moor of Grenada, just to please this Omphale. A few more abductions, my dear child, and you will realise that it is far better to break a wild filly with violence than to tame her by dint of sweetness and petting. But your young palate requires milk and honey yet awhile. Later you will come to the spices.”

“You flatter me, Trimalcyon, by comparing me to a Moor of Grenada,” said Erebus, with bitterness. “They were noble and chivalrous, and not real robbers like us.” “Robbers? Do you hear him, Captain Pog? He is yet not more than half out of his shell, and he comes talking of robbers! And who in the devil told you we were robbers? That is the way they impose upon youth, the way they deceive it and corrupt it. Why, speak to him, I pray you, Captain Pog! Robbers! Give me something to drink, Swan-skin, to help me swallow that word! Zounds! Robbers!”

Erebus seemed very little impressed by the grotesque anger of Trimalcyon.

Captain Pog raised his head slowly and said to the young man, with bitter irony:

“Well, well, my dear child, you are right to blush for our profession. Upon my return to Tripoli, I will buy you a shop near the port,—it is the best mercantile quarter. There you can sell in peace and quietness white morocco-leather, Smyrna carpets and tapestry, Persian silks and ostrich feathers. That is an easy and honest calling, my dear child. You will be able to amass some money and afterward go to Malta, and establish yourself in the Jewish quarter. There you can lend your money at fifty per cent, to the chevaliers who are in debt. Thus you can avenge yourself on those who cut your father’s and mother’s throats, by pocketing their money. It is more lucrative and less dangerous than taking your revenge in blood.”

“Captain!” cried Erebus, his cheeks flaming with indignation.

“Captain Pog is right,” said Trimalcyon, “the vampire that sucks the blood of his sleeping prey with impunity is better than the bold falcon that attacks him in the sun.”

“Trimalcyon, take care!” cried the young man, in anger.

“And who knows,” continued Pog, “if chance may not cause the chevalier who massacred your poor mother and noble father to fall under your usurious hand?”

“And see the avenging hand of Providence!” cried Trimalcyon. “The orphan becomes the creditor of the assassin! Blood and murder! Death and agony! This son, the avenger, at last gluts his rage by making the murderer of his family put on the yellow robe of insolvent debtors!”

At this last sarcasm, the anger of Erebus exceeded all bounds, and he seized Trimalcyon by the throat and drew on him a knife that he had taken from the table. But for the iron grasp of Pog, which held the youth’s hand like a vice, the fat pirate would have been dangerously wounded, if not killed.

“By Eblis and his black wings! Captain, take care! If you are provoked at the blow I was about to give that hog, then I will address myself to you!” cried Erebus, trying to free himself from Pog’s hands.

Swan-skin and Orangine escaped, shrieking with terror.

“See what it is to spoil children,” said Pog, with a disdainful smile, as he released the hand of Erebus.

“And to allow them to play with knives,” replied Trimalcyon, picking up the knife that Erebus had let fall in the struggle.

A look from Pog warned him that he must not push the young man too far.

“Do you wish to kill the one who has brought you up, dear child?” said Pog, sarcastically. “Come, you have your dagger in your belt, strike.”

Erebus looked at him with a surly air, and said, with an angry sneer:

“It is in the name of gratitude, then, that you ask me to spare your life? Then why have you preached to me the forgetfulness of benefits and the remembrance of injuries?”

Notwithstanding his impudence, Trimalcyon looked at Pog in amazement, not knowing how his companion would reply to that question.

Pog gave Erebus a look of withering contempt, as he said to him:

“I wished to test you, when I spoke of gratitude. Yes, the truly brave man forgets all benefits, and only remembers injuries. I offered you the most outrageous insult, I told you that you did not have the courage to avenge the death of your parents. You ought to have struck me at once,—but you are a coward.”

Pog, Calm and Unmoved, Opened his Breast

Erebus quickly drew his dagger and raised it over the pirate before Trimalcyon could take a step.

Pog, calm and unmoved, opened his breast without a sign of emotion.

Twice Erebus raised his arm, twice he let it fall again. He could not make up his mind to strike a defenceless man. He bowed his head with a sorrowful air.

Pog sat down again and said to Erebus, in a severe and imperious voice:

“Child, do not quote maxims whose meaning perhaps you may comprehend, but which your weak heart will not let you put in practice. Listen to me, once for all. I received you without pity. I feel as much hatred and contempt for you as I do for all other men. I have trained you to pillage and murder, as I would have amused myself in training a young wolf for slaughter, that some day I might be able to hurl you against my enemies. I have killed all the chevaliers of Malta who have............