Pierre des Anbiez arrived at Cape l’Aigle at the break of day. Scarcely had the black galley anchored in the port of La Ciotat, when the commander and his brother descended to the shore.

Everywhere they saw marks of the pirate’s barbarity.

The weeping inhabitants then knew all the extent of their losses. Each family had learned which one of its members had perished or had been taken captive.

During the battle, they thought only of defending themselves and repulsing the enemy; then, too, night had veiled the disasters which day revealed in all their horror. On one side, walls blackened by the conflagration barely supported the tottering carpentry.

Farther on was the town hall, of which only the walls remained. Its windows were broken, its balcony demolished, its doors burned to ashes, its foundations charred, and showers of balls everywhere proved that the citizens had defended themselves with vigorous earnestness.

The large square of La Ciotat, the theatre of the most murderous conflict of that fatal night, was covered with dead bodies.

Nothing could be more heartrending than to see the afflicted inhabitants seeking a father, a brother, a son, or a friend among these dead.

When they recognised one whom they sought, the others, petrified with grief, would look on in silence; again, some would utter impotent cries for vengeance; and some in their wild lamentation would rush to the port, as if they would there find the galleys of the lawless brigands.

The commander and Father Elzear walked through this scene of desolation, speaking words of consolation to the unfortunate sufferers, and asking information of Raimond V.

They learned that he had made a most valuable and courageous defence, by attacking the pirates at the head of the company from Maison-Forte, but no one could tell them if the baron was wounded or not.

The two brothers, in their anxiety, hastened to Maison-Forte, followed by a few subordinate officers of the galley, and by Luquin Trinquetaille, who had also anchored his polacre in the port.

They arrived at the Castle des Anbiez. The bridge was lowered, and the great court deserted, although it was the hour for work.

They mounted the stairs in haste, and reached the immense hall in which the pious Christmas ceremonies had taken place the evening before.

All the inmates of Maison-Forte, men, women, old people, and children, were kneeling in this vast hall, where reigned the most profound silence.

So absorbed was this crowd in its devotions, and so anxiously did they watch the half-open door of the baron’s chamber, that not one perceived the entrance of the commander and Father Elzear.

At the bottom of the hall, under the dais, was the cradle, the masterpiece of Dame Dulceline and the good chaplain. A few candles still burned in the copper chandeliers. The colossal Christmas log was smoking in the depth of the vast chimney, still ornamented with green branches and fruits and flowers and ribbons.

Nothing seemed more startling than this scene lighted by the first pale rays of a winter day; nothing more painful than the contrast between the feast of the night and the sorrow of the morning.

After having contemplated this quiet and imposing scene, the commander gently called aside some of the baron’s vassals to open a way to the door of the baron’s chamber.

“Monseigneur, the commander, and good Father Elzear!” were the words which circulated among the anxious crowd, as they waited for news of the baron’s condition, whether or not his wounds permitted them to indulge a hope for his recovery.

Pierre des Anbiez and his brother, with a soft and cautious tread, entered the chamber of Raimond V.

The old gentleman, still dressed in his holiday attire, even to his long boots, was lying on his bed. His venerable face was livid, and his flowing white locks were stained with blood.

Abbé Mascarolus was dressing the wounds in his head, assisted in this pious duty by Honorat de Berrol. Dame Dulceline, whose tears never ceased to flow, was cutting cloth bands, while the majordomo Laramée, standing at the foot of the bed, apparently unconscious of all around him, was sobbing aloud.

So absorbed were the actors in this sad scene, that Father Elzear and Pierre des Anbiez entered unperceived.

“My brother!” cried the commander and the priest at the same time, falling on their knees at the bedside of the baron, and kissing his cold hands affectionately.

“Are the wounds serious, abbé?” said the commander, while Father Elzear remained on his knees.

“Alas! is it you, M. Commander?” said the chaplain, clasping his hands in surprise; “if only you had arrived yesterday all these misfortunes would not have happened, and monseigneur would not be in danger of death.”

“Great God!” cried Pierre des Anbiez, “we must send at once for Brother Anselm, the surgeon on board my galley. He will assist you; he understands wounds made by weapons of war.”

Seeing Luquin Trinquetaille at the door, the commander said to him: “Go immediately for Brother Anselm, and bring him here.”

Luquin disappeared to execute the commander’s orders. The abbé was anxiously listening to the laboured breathing of the baron. Finally, the wounded man made a light movement, turned his head from the chaplain without opening his eyes, and uttered a long sigh. The commander and the priest gazed inquiringly into the chaplain’s face, who made a sign of approval, and took advantage of the baron’s position to dress another part of the wounds.

Father Elzear, disappointed at not seeing Reine at her father’s bedside at such a time, said, in a low voice to Honorat: “And where is Reine? The poor child no doubt cannot endure this painful sight!”

“Great God!” cried Honorat, in astonishment, “and do you not know, Father Elzear, all the misfortunes which have befallen this house? Reine has been carried off by the pirates!”

Father Elzear and the commander looked at each other, bewildered.

“My God! my God! spare his old age this last blow!” said the priest, clasping his hands in supplication, and looking up to heaven. “Grant us the power to take this unfortunate child from their hands!”

“And does no one know to what point these pirates have fled?” said the commander, his wrath beyond all bounds. “Inquire of the boats that a............