PART II.

Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed

Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was

produced from scanned images of public domain material

from the Google Print project.)

A ROMANCE OF THE WEST INDIES.

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF

EUGENE SUE.

BY

MARIAN LONGFELLOW.

F. TENNYSON NEELY,

PUBLISHER.

LONDON. NEW YORK.

Copyright, 1898,

by

F. TENNYSON NEELY,

in

United States

and

Great Britain.

All Rights Reserved.

TO THE MEMORY OF

WILKIE COLLINS,

AUTHOR AND ARTIST,

WHO FIRST DIRECTED MY ATTENTION TO THIS

WORK AND SUGGESTED ITS TRANSLATION

INTO ENGLISH,

I DEDICATE THIS BOOK IN KINDLY REMEMBRANCE.

THE TRANSLATOR.

CONTENTS.

PART I.

I. The Passenger

II. A Female Blue Beard

III. The Arrival

IV. The Priest's House

V. The Surprise

VI. The Warning

VII. The Cavern

VIII. The Devil's Cliff

IX. Night

X. A Buccaneer

XI. Master Rend-Your-Soul

PART II.

XII. The Marriage

XIII. Supper

XIV. True Love

XV. The Envoy from France

XVI. The Storm

XVII. The Surprise

XVIII. My Lord the Duke

XIX. A Second Surprise

XX. The Departure

XXI. The Betrayal

PART III.

XXII. The Viceroy of Ireland and Scotland

XXIII. The Arrest

XXIV. The Interview

XXV. Revelations

XXVI. Devotion

XXVII. The Martyr

XXVIII. The Duke Relates the Sacrifice to which He Owes his Life

XXIX. The Departure

PART IV.

XXX. Regrets

XXXI. Croustillac Departs

XXXII. The Frigate

XXXIII. The Judgment

XXXIV. The Chase

XXXV. The Return

EPILOGUE.

XXXVI. The Abbey

XXXVII. Reunited

A ROMANCE OF THE WEST INDIES.

PART I.

CHAPTER I.

THE PASSENGER.

Toward the latter part of May, 1690, the three-masted schooner the

Unicorn sailed from Rochelle for the island of Martinique.

A Captain Daniel commanded this vessel, which was armed with a dozen

pieces of medium-sized ordnance, a defensive precaution necessary at

that period. France was at that time at war with England, and the

Spanish pirates would often cross to the windward of the Antilles, in

spite of the frequent pursuit of filibusters.

Among the passengers of the Unicorn, few in number, was the Reverend

Father Griffen, of the Order of the Preaching Brothers. He was returning

to Martinique to resume his parish duties at Macouba, where he had

occupied the curacy for some years to the satisfaction of the

inhabitants and the slaves of that locality.

The exceptional life of the colonies, then almost continually in a state

of open hostility against the English, the Spanish, and the natives of

the Antilles, placed the priests of the latter in a peculiar position.

They were called upon not only to preach, to hear confessions, to

administer the sacraments to their flocks, but also to aid in defending

themselves during the frequent inroads of their enemies of all nations

and all colors.

The priest's house was, as other habitations, alike isolated and

exposed to deadly surprises. More than once had Father Griffen, assisted

by his two slaves, intrenched himself securely behind a large gateway of

mahogany, after having repulsed their assailants by a lively fire.

Formerly a professor of geometry and mathematics, and possessed of

considerable theoretical knowledge of military architecture, Father

Griffen had given most excellent advice to the successive governors of

Martinique on the construction of works of defense.

This priest knew thoroughly the stonecutter's and carpenter's trades;

learned in agriculture, an excellent gardener, of an inventive spirit,

full of resources, of rare energy, a determined courage, he was a

valuable man to the colony, and, above all, to the quarter he inhabited.

The word of the gospel had not, perhaps, in his mouth all the unction to

be desired; his voice was rough, his exhortations were unpolished; but

their moral quality was excellent; they abounded in charity. He said the

mass as rapidly and as forcibly as if he were a buccaneer. One could

pardon him when one knew that this holy office was often interrupted by

a raid of the heretical English or the idolatrous Caribbeans; and that

then Father Griffen, leaping from the pulpit from which he had preached

"peace and concord," was always one of the first to put himself at the

head of his flock in order to defend it.

As to the wounded and prisoners, once the engagement was ended, the

worthy priest ameliorated their situation as far as he could, and with

the greatest care dressed the wounds which he had himself made.

We will not undertake to prove that the conduct of Father Griffen was in

all points canonical, nor to solve the question so often debated, "Under

what circumstances may the clergy go to war?" We do not claim for this

subject either the authority of Saint Gregory nor that of Leo IV. We

simply say that this worthy priest did good and combated evil with all

his might.

Of a loyal and generous character, frank and gay, Father Griffen was

mischievously hostile and mocking where women were concerned. He was

continually making jests upon the daughters of Eve; these temptresses,

these diabolical allies of the Serpent. In justice to Father Griffen, we

must say that he showed in his railleries, otherwise without malice, a

little rancor and contempt; he jested lightly on the subject of a

happiness that he regretted not being able to desire; for, in spite of

the extreme license of Creole customs, the purity of Father Griffen's

life was never questioned.

He might have been accused of loving the pleasures of the table; not

that he abused them (he observed bounds in enjoying the good gifts which

God bestowed), but he was singularly fond of indulging himself with

marvelous recipes for dressing game, seasoning fish, or preserving in

sugar the fragrant fruits of the tropics; at times, even the description

of his epicurean tastes became contagious, when he would enlarge upon

certain repasts after the manner of buccaneers, prepared in the depths

of the forests or on the shore of the island. Between you and me, Father

Griffen possessed, among others, the secret of cooking a turtle,

buccaneer-fashion, of which the mere recital was enough to excite

ravenous hunger on the part of his hearers. In spite of his usually

formidable appetite, Father Griffen scrupulously observed his fasts,

which an edict of the pope's decreed should be much less strict at the

Antilles and in the Indies than in Europe.

It is unnecessary to say here that the worthy priest would abandon the

most delicate repast in order to fulfill his duties as a priest to a

poor slave; no one was more pitiful than he--a more charitable or

prudent manager, regarding the little he possessed as the property of

the unfortunate.

Never was his consolation or succor lacking to those who suffered; but

once his Christian task fulfilled, he worked gayly and vigorously in his

garden, watered his plants, hoed his paths, pruned his trees, and when

night came he loved to rest after his salutary and rustic labor, and

enjoy, with an intelligent keenness of palate, the gastronomic riches of

the country.

His flock never allowed his cellar or his larder to become empty. The

finest fruit, the best portion from the chase or the rod, was always

faithfully sent to him. He was beloved--he was blessed. They came to

him to settle all points of dispute, and his judgment was finally

accepted on all questions.

The physique of Father Griffen accorded perfectly with the impression

perhaps formed of him after what has just been said of his character.

He was a man of not more than fifty years, robust, active, though

perhaps rather too stout; his long robe of white wool and his black cape

set off his broad shoulders; a felt cap covered his bald crown. His red

face, his triple chin, his lips thick and crimson, his nose long and

flat at the end, his small and lively gray eyes, gave him a certain

resemblance to Rabelais; but what specially characterized Father

Griffen's physiognomy was a rare mixture of frankness, goodness,

strength and innocent raillery.

At the commencement of this story, the Preaching Brother stood on the

stern of the vessel, in conversation with Captain Daniel. The ease with

which he maintained his equilibrium, in spite of the violent rolling of

the vessel, proved that Father Griffen had long since found his

sea-legs.

Captain Daniel was an old sea-dog; once at sea, he left the management

of his vessel to his mates and pilot, and became intoxicated regularly

every night. Frequently making the trip from Martinique to Rochelle, he

had already brought Father Griffen from America. The latter, accustomed

to the inebriety of the worthy captain, attentively studied the ship's

management; for without possessing the nautical science of Father

Fournier, and other of his religious colleagues, he had a sufficiently

theoretical and practical knowledge of navigation. Often had the priest

made the passage from Martinique to San Domingo and beyond, on board the

privateer vessels, which always yielded a tithe of their prizes to the

churches of the Antilles.

Night approached. Father Griffen inhaled with pleasure the odor of

supper which was being prepared. The captain's boy came to announce to

the passengers that the repast was ready; two or three among them, who

had successfully resisted seasickness, entered the cabin.

Father Griffen said grace; they had hardly seated themselves when the

door of the cabin opened suddenly, and the following words were

pronounced with a strong Gascon accent:

"There is, I hope, noble captain, a small place for the Chevalier de

Croustillac?"

All the guests made a movement of surprise, then strove to read in the

features of the captain an explanation of this singular apparition. The

captain remained stupefied, regarding his new guest with an air almost

of affright.

"Eh, there, who are you? I do not know you. Where the devil did you come

from, sir?" he finally said.

"If I came from the devil, this good priest," and he kissed the hand of

Father Griffen, "this good priest would send me back there very quickly,

by saying, 'Get thee behind me, Satan.'"

"But where _do_ you come from, sir?" cried the captain, stupefied by the

confident and smiling air of this unexpected guest.

"One does not come thus on board. You are not on my list of passengers.

You have fallen from the sky, perhaps?"

"A few minutes since it was from the infernal regions; now it is from

the heavens that I come. Faith! I do not lay claim to an origin so

divine nor so infernal, worthy captain; I----"

"It matters not as to that," replied the captain. "Tell me, how came you

here?"

The chevalier assumed a majestic air. "I should be unworthy of belonging

to the noble house of de Croustillac, one of the oldest in Guienne, if I

had the slightest hesitation in satisfying the legitimate curiosity of

the illustrious captain."

"So--this is very lucky," cried the latter.

"Do not say it is lucky, rather say it is right. I fall upon your vessel

like a bomb; you are astonished; nothing is more natural; you ask me how

I came on board. This is your right. I explain it to you--that is my

duty. Completely satisfied by my explanation, you extend to me your hand

and say, 'This is well, chevalier, place yourself at table with us.' I

respond to you, 'Captain, I cannot refuse, for I am dying for lack of

sustenance. Blessed be your benevolent offer.' So saying I slip in

between these two estimable gentlemen. I make myself small; very small;

in order not to incommode them; on the contrary, the motion is so

violent that I wedge----"

So saying, the chevalier put his words into execution; profiting by the

general surprise, he insinuated himself between two guests and provided

himself with the glass of one, the plate of another, and the napkin of a

third. Profound amazement made his neighbors oblivious to the things of

this world. All this was accomplished with so much quickness, dexterity,

confidence and boldness that the guests of the illustrious captain of

the Unicorn and the illustrious captain himself did not dream of more

than looking with the greatest curiosity and astonishment at the

Chevalier de Croustillac. The adventurer proudly wore an old waistcoat

of rateen, once green, but now of a yellowish blue; his frayed breeches

were of the same shade; his stockings, at one time scarlet, were now a

faded pink, and seemed in places to be fairly embroidered with white

thread; a badly worn gray felt hat, an old sword-belt trimmed with

imitation gold lace, now tarnished, supported a long sword upon which

the chevalier, on entering, leaned with the air of a grandee.

Croustillac was a very tall and excessively thin man. He appeared to be

from thirty-six to forty years of age. His hair, mustache, and eyebrows

were jet black, his face bony, brown and tanned. He had a long nose,

small hazel eyes, which were extraordinarily lively, and his mouth was

very large; his physiognomy betrayed at the same time an imperturbable

assurance and an excessive vanity.

Croustillac had that overweening belief in himself which one finds only

among the Gascons. He so exaggerated his merits and natural graces to

himself that he believed no woman was able to resist him; the list of

his conquests of every kind had been interminable. In spite of the most

amazing falsehoods, which cost him little, it cannot be denied that he

possessed true courage and a certain nobility of character. This

natural valor, joined to his blind confidence in himself, sometimes

precipitated him into almost inextricable situations, into which he

threw himself headlong, and from which he never emerged without hard

blows--for if he was as adventurous and boastful as a Gascon, he was as

obstinate and opinionated as a Breton.

Heretofore his life had been very similar to that of his Bohemian

companions. The younger son of a poor Gascon family of doubtful

nobility, he had come to seek his fortune at Paris; by turns petty

officer of a forlorn hope; provost of an academy, bath-keeper, horse

jockey, peddler of satirical news and Holland gazettes; he had more than

once pretended to be a Protestant, feigning conversion to the Catholic

faith in order to secure the fifty crowns that M. Pelisson paid each

neophyte as the price of conversion. This cheat discovered, the

chevalier was condemned to the lash and to prison. He suffered the lash,

escaped from prison, disguised himself by means of an immense shade over

his eye, girded himself with a formidable sword with which he ambled

about, then embraced the profession of wheedling country folk for the

benefit of gambling houses, into which he led those innocent lambs, who

did not come forth again until completely shorn. It must be said--to the

chevalier's credit that he took no part himself in these rascalities; as

he said to himself--if he did bait the hook, he at least did not eat the

fish.

The laws regarding duels were at that time very severe. One day the

chevalier encountered a well-known brave named Fontenay-Coup-d'Epee. The

latter roughly elbowed our adventurer, saying, "Take care! I am Fontenay

Sword-Thrust." "And I," said the Gascon, "Croustillac Cannon-Ball,"

whipping out his sword.

Fontenay was killed, and Croustillac obliged to flee in order to escape

capture.

The chevalier had often heard of the wonderful fortunes to be realized

in the colonies. Journeying sometimes on foot, sometimes on horse,

sometimes in a wagon, he went to Rochelle hoping to embark for America.

Once there, Croustillac found that he not only must pay his passage on

board a vessel, but must also obtain from the intendant of marine,

permission to embark for the Antilles.

These two things were equally difficult of accomplishment; the

emigration of Protestants, which Louis XIV. wished to prevent, made the

officers of the ports extremely severe, and the voyage to Martinique

cost no less than eight or nine hundred livres. In all his life the

adventurer had never been possessed of a tithe of this amount. Arriving

at Rochelle with ten crowns in his pocket, dressed in a smock frock and

carrying his clothing on the end of his scabbard, the chevalier went,

like a journeyman, to lodge at a poor tavern, ordinarily frequented by

sailors.

There he inquired as to outgoing vessels, and learned that the Unicorn

would set sail in a few days. Two of the crew of this vessel frequented

the tavern which the chevalier had selected for the center of his

operations. It would take too long to tell by what prodigies of

astuteness and address; by what impudent and fabulous lies; by what mad

promises Croustillac succeeded in interesting in his behalf the master

cooper charged with the stowage of the casks of fresh water in the hold;

it is enough to know that this man consented to hide Croustillac in an

empty cask and to carry him on board the Unicorn.

According to custom, the intendant's assistants and the admiralty clerks

carefully examined the vessel at the moment of its departure, in order

to see that no one had fraudulently embarked. The chevalier kept quiet

at the bottom of his cask and escaped the careful search of the king's

servants. His heart bounded freely when he felt the vessel under way; he

waited some hours before daring to show himself, knowing well that, once

on the high seas, the captain of the Unicorn would not return to port to

bring back a contraband passenger.

It had been arranged between the master cooper and the chevalier that

the latter should never disclose the means whereby he had been smuggled

on board.

A man less impudent than our adventurer would have timidly kept his

place among the sailors, waiting with uneasiness the moment when

Captain Daniel should discover the stowaway. Croustillac, on the

contrary, went boldly to his end; preferring the captain's table to the

mess of the crew, he was not a moment in doubt that he would be seated

at that table--if not rightfully, at least in fact.

We have seen how his audacity served his purpose.

Such was the unexpected visitor at whom the guests of the Unicorn looked

curiously.

CHAPTER II.

BLUE BEARD.

"Now, sir, explain how you came here!" cried the captain of the Unicorn,

too impatient to learn the Gascon's secret to send him from the table.

The Chevalier de Croustillac poured out a large glass of wine, stood up,

and said in a loud tone, "I will first propose to the illustrious

company to drink the health of one who is dear to us all--that of our

glorious king, that of Louis the Great, the most adored of princes!"

In that troublous time, it would have been unwise and even dangerous for

the captain to receive the chevalier's proposition with coolness.

Captain Daniel and the passengers following his example, responding to

the toast, repeated in chorus, "To the king's health! to the health of

Louis the Great!" One person alone remained silent; this was the

chevalier's neighbor. Croustillac looked at him frowningly.

"By the gods, sir, are you not one of us?" said he; "are you, then, an

enemy of our beloved king?"

"Not at all, sir; not at all. I love and venerate this great king, but

how can I drink. You have taken my glass," replied the passenger

timidly.

"What! gods! Is it for such a trifle as this that you expose yourself to

passing for a bad Frenchman?" exclaimed the chevalier, shrugging his

shoulders. "Are there not enough glasses here? Waiter! bring this

gentleman a glass. My dear friend, good luck. Now stand and let us say,

'To the king's health--our great king!'"

After this toast all reseated themselves. The chevalier profited by the

confusion to give a napkin and plate to his neighbor. Then, uncovering a

dish placed before him, he said boldly to Father Griffen, "Father, may I

offer you some of this potted pigeon?"

"Zounds, sir," cried the captain, struck by the liberties taken by the

chevalier, "you put yourself very much at your ease."

The adventurer interrupted the captain and said to him with a solemn

air, "Captain, I know how to render to each what is due. The clergy is

the first order of the state; I conduct myself then as a Christian in

serving at once this reverend father. I shall do more--I shall seize

this occasion to render homage, in his respectable and holy person, to

the evangelical virtues which distinguish and always will distinguish

our church."

So saying, the chevalier served Father Griffen. From this moment it

became very difficult for the captain to oust the adventurer. He had not

refused the chevalier's toast, nor prevented him from doing the honors

of the table. Meanwhile he continued to question him. "Come, sir, you

are a gentleman, so be it! you are a good Christian, you love the king

as we all love him--this is very well, but tell me, how the devil came

you here to eat supper with us?"

"Father," said the chevalier, "I call upon you to bear witness, in the

presence of this honorable company----"

"To bear witness to what, my son?" replied the priest.

"To bear witness to what the captain has said."

"How? What have I said," exclaimed the captain.

"Captain, you have said, you will remember, in the presence of this

company, that I am a gentleman."

"I have said so, no doubt, but----"

"That I am a good Christian."

"Yes, but----"

"That I love the king."

"Yes, because----"

"Very well," replied the chevalier. "I again call this illustrious

company to bear witness that when one is a good Christian, when one is a

gentleman, when one loves his king, what more can be asked? Father,

shall I help you to some of this roast?"

"I will take some, my son, for my seasickness takes the form of a robust

appetite; once on shipboard, my hunger redoubles."

"I am delighted, Father, at this similarity in constitution. I, too,

have a ravenous appetite."

"Very well, my son; as our good captain has given you the means

wherewith to satisfy your appetite, I would say, to make use of your own

words, that it is just because you _are_ a gentleman, a good Christian,

and well-disposed toward our beloved sovereign, that you ought to answer

the questions of Captain Daniel as to your extraordinary appearance on

board his ship."

"Unhappily, that is just what I cannot do, Father."

"How? cannot do?" cried the irritated captain.

The chevalier assumed a solemn air, and replied, as he turned toward the

priest, "This reverend father can alone hear my confession and my vows;

this secret is not mine alone; this secret is grave, very grave," he

added, raising his eyes in contrition to heaven.

"And I--I can force you to speak," cried the captain, "when I cause a

cannon ball to be tied to each of your feet and ride you on a rail until

you disclose the truth."

"Captain," answered the chevalier, with imperturbable calm, "I never

permit any one to threaten me. The motion of an eyelid, a sneer, a

gesture, a nothing, which seems insulting--but you are king on your own

ship, and therefore I am in your kingdom and recognize myself to be your

subject. You have admitted me to your table--I shall continue to be

worthy of this favor always--but there is no reason to arbitrarily

inflict upon me such bad treatment. Nevertheless, I shall know how to

resign myself to it, to support it, unless this good priest, the refuge

of the feeble against the strong, deigns to intercede with you in my

behalf," replied the chevalier humbly.

The captain was very much embarrassed, for Father Griffen did not

hesitate to speak a few words in behalf of the adventurer who had so

suddenly sought his protection, and who had promised to reveal, under

the seal of the confessional, the secret of his presence on the Unicorn.

The anger of the captain was somewhat appeased; the chevalier, at first

flattering, insinuating, became jovial and comical; for the amusement of

the passengers he performed all kinds of tricks; he balanced knives on

his nose; he built up a pyramid of glasses and bottles with wonderful

ingenuity; he sang new songs; he imitated the cries of various animals.

In fact, Croustillac knew so well how to amuse the captain of the

Unicorn, who was not very hard to please, that when supper was concluded

the latter clapped the Gascon on the shoulder, saying:

"After all, chevalier, you are here on board, there is no way to undo

that. You are good company, and there will always be a plate for you at

my table, and we will manage to find some corner in which to swing a

hammock for you."

The chevalier overwhelmed the captain with thanks and protestations of

gratitude, and betook himself quickly to the place assigned to him, and

soon was profoundly sleeping, perfectly satisfied as to his well-being

during the voyage, although a little humiliated from having had to

suffer the captain's threats, and from having had to descend to tricks

to win the good will of one whom he mentally designated a brute and a

seabear.

The chevalier saw in the colonies a veritable Eldorado. He had heard of

the magnificent hospitality of the colonists, who were only too happy,

he had been told, to keep the Europeans who came to see them as guests,

for months, and he drew this very simple deduction: there are about

fifty or sixty rich plantations at Martinique and Guadeloupe; their

proprietors, bored to death, are delighted to keep with them men of wit;

of gay humor, and of resources. I am essentially one of these; I have

only, then, to appear to be petted, feted, spoiled; admitting that I

spend six months at each plantation, one after another--there are fully

in the neighborhood of sixty--this will give me from twenty-five to

thirty years of enjoyment and perfectly assured comfortable existence,

and I count only on the least favorable chances. I am in the full

maturity of my gifts; I am amiable, witty, I have all kinds of society

talents; how can one believe that the rich owners of these colonies,

will be so blind, so stupid, as not to profit by the occasion and secure

to themselves in this way the most charming husband that a young girl or

a fascinating widow has ever pictured in sleepless nights.

Such were the hopes of the chevalier; we shall see if they were

realized.

The following morning Croustillac kept his promise and made his

confession to Father Griffen.

Although sincere enough, the avowal revealed nothing new as to the

position of the penitent, which he had very nearly divined. This was, in

effect the chevalier's confession: He had dissipated his fortune; killed

a man in a duel; pursued by justice and finding himself without

resources, he had adopted the dangerous part of going to the West Indies

to seek his fortune; not having the means of paying for his passage, he

had had recourse to the compassion of a cooper, who had carried him on

board and hidden him in an empty cask.

This apparent sincerity caused Father Griffen to look upon the

adventurer with leniency; but he did not hide from the Gascon that any

hope of finding a fortune in the colonies was an error; he must bring

quite an amount of capital with him to obtain even the smallest

establishment; the climate was deadly; the inhabitants, as a general

thing, were suspicious of strangers, and all the traditions of generous

hospitality of the first colonists completely forgotten, as much through

the egotism of the inhabitants as because of the discomforts following a

war with England--which had gravely affected their interests. In a word,

Father Griffen counseled the chevalier to accept the offer which the

captain made, of taking him back to Rochelle after having touched at

Martinique. In the priest's opinion, Croustillac could find a thousand

resources in France, which he could not hope to find in a half-civilized

country; the condition of the Europeans being such in the colonies that

never, in consideration of their dignity as whites, could they perform

menial employment. Father Griffen was ignorant of the fact that the

chevalier had exhausted the resources of France, and therefore had

expatriated himself. Under certain circumstances, no one was more easily

hoodwinked than the good priest; his pity for the unhappy blinding his

usual penetration. The past life of the chevalier did not appear to have

been one of immaculate purity; but this man was so careless in his

distress, so indifferent to the future which menaced him, that Father

Griffen ended by taking more interest in the adventurer than he

merited, and he proposed that the latter should stay in his parsonage at

Macouba, while the Unicorn remained at Martinique; an invitation that

Croustillac took care not to refuse.

Time went on. Captain Daniel was never tired of praising the wonderful

talents of the chevalier, in whom he discovered new treasures of

sleight-of-hand each day. Croustillac had finished by putting into his

mouth the ends of burning candles, and by swallowing forks. This last

feat had carried the captain beyond bounds of enthusiasm; he formally

offered the Gascon a situation for life on board ship if the chevalier

would promise to charm thus agreeably the tedium of the voyages of the

Unicorn.

We would say here, in order to explain the success of Croustillac, that

at sea the hours seem very long; the slightest distractions are

precious, and one is very glad to have always at one's beck and call a

species of buffoon endowed with imperturbable good humor. As to the

chevalier, he hid under a laughing and careless mask, a sad

preoccupation; the end of his journey drew near; the words of Father

Griffen had been too sensible, too sincere, too just not to strongly

impress our adventurer, who had counted upon passing a joyous life at

the expense of the colonists. The coldness with which many of the

passengers, returning to Martinique, treated him, completed the ruin of

his hopes. In spite of the talents which he developed and which amused

them, none of these colonists made the slightest advance to the

chevalier, although he repeatedly declared he would be delighted to make

a long exploration into the interior of the island.

The end of the voyage came; the last illusions of Croustillac were

destroyed; he saw himself reduced to the deplorable alternative of

forever traversing the ocean with Captain Daniel, or of returning to

France to encounter the rigors of the law. Chance suddenly offered to

the chevalier the most dazzling mirage, and awakened in him the maddest

hopes.

The Unicorn was not more than two hundred leagues from Martinique when

they met a French trading vessel coming from that island and sailing

for France. This vessel lay to and sent a boat to the Unicorn for news

from Europe. In the colonies all was well for some weeks past; not a

single English man-of-war had been seen. After exchanging other news,

the two vessels separated.

"For a vessel of such value (the passengers had estimated her worth at

about four hundred thousand francs) she is not very well armed," said

the chevalier, "and would be a good prize for the English."

"Bah!" returned a passenger with an envious air, "Blue Beard can afford

to lose such a vessel as that."

"Yes, truly; there would still remain enough money to buy and arm

others."

"Twenty such, if she desired," said the captain.

"Oh, twenty, that is a good many," said another.

"Faith, without counting her magnificent plantation at Anse aux Sables,

and her mysterious house at Devil's Cliff," returned a third, "do they

not say she has five or six millions of gold and precious stones hidden

somewhere?"

"Ah, there it is! hidden no one knows where!" exclaimed Captain Daniel;

"but one thing sure, she _has_ them, for I have it from old father

'Wide-awake,' who had once seen Blue Beard's first husband at Devil's

Cliff (which husband, they say, was young and handsome as an angel). I

have it from Wide-awake that Blue Beard on this day amused herself by

measuring in a bowl, diamonds, pearls and emeralds; now, all these

riches are still in her possession, without counting that her third and

last husband, as they say, was very rich, and that all his fortune was

in gold dust."

"People say she is so avaricious that she expends for herself and

household only ten thousand francs a year," continued a passenger.

"As to that, it is not certain," said Captain Daniel; "no one knows how

she lives, because she is a stranger in the colony, and not four persons

have ever put their feet inside Devil's Cliff."

"Truly; and lucky it is so; I am not the one who would have the

curiosity to go there," said another; "Devil's Cliff does not enjoy a

very good reputation; they do say that strange things take place there."

"It is certain that it has been struck by lightning three times."

"That does not surprise me; and strange cries, they say, are heard round

the house."

"It is said that it is built like a fortress, inaccessible, among the

rocks of the Cabesterre."

"That is natural if Blue Beard has so great a treasure to guard."

Croustillac heard this conversation with great curiosity. These

treasures, these diamonds, were pictured in his imagination.

"Of whom do you speak, gentlemen?" he said.

"We are speaking of Blue Beard."

"Who is this Blue Beard?"

"Blue Beard? Well, it is--Blue Beard."

"But is this a man or a woman?" said the chevalier.

"Blue Beard?"

"Yes, yes," said Croustillac impatiently.

"'Tis a woman."

"How, a woman? and why, then, call her Blue Beard?"

"Because she gets rid of her husbands as easily as Blue Beard of the old

story got rid of his wives."

"And she is a widow? She is a widow! Oh," cried the chevalier, clapping

his hands while his heart beat rapidly, "a widow! rich beyond belief;

rich enough to make one dizzy only to try to estimate her wealth--a

widow!"

"A widow; so much of a widow that she is such for a third time in three

years," said the captain.

"And is she as rich as they say?"

"Yes, that is conceded; all the world knows it," replied the captain.

"Worth millions; rich enough to fit out vessels worth four hundred

thousand livres; rich enough to have sacks of diamonds and emeralds and

fine pearls!" cried the Gascon, whose eyes sparkled and nostrils

dilated, while his hands clinched.

"But I tell you that she is rich enough to buy Martinique and

Guadeloupe if she were so pleased," said the captain.

"And old? very old?" asked the Gascon, uneasily.

His informer looked at the other passengers with a questioning air.

"What age should you say Blue Beard was?"

"Faith, I do not know," said one.

"All I know," said another, "is that when I came to the colony two years

ago she had already had her second husband, and had a third in view, who

only lived a year."

"As to her third husband, it is said that he is not dead, but has

disappeared," said a third.

"He is certainly dead, however, because Blue Beard has been seen wearing

a widow's garb," said a passenger.

"No doubt, no doubt," continued another; "the proof that he is dead is

that the parish priest of Macouba was instructed, in the absence of

Father Griffen, to say the mass for the dead, for him."

"And it would not be surprising if he had been assassinated," said

another.

"Assassinated? by his wife, no doubt?" said still another voice with an

emphasis that spoke little in favor of Blue Beard.

"Not by his wife!"

"Ah, ah, that is something new!"

"Not by his wife? and by whom, then?"

"By his enemies in the Barbadoes."

"By the English colonists?"

"Yes, by the English, because he was himself English."

"Is it so, then, sir; the third husband is dead, really dead?" asked the

chevalier anxiously.

"Oh, as to being dead--he is that," exclaimed several in chorus.

Croustillac drew a long breath; a moment's thought, and his hopes

resumed their audacious flight.

"But the age of Blue Beard?" he persisted.

"Her age--as to that I can satisfy you; she must be anywhere from

twenty, yes, that is about it, from twenty to sixty years," said Captain

Daniel.

"Then you have not seen her?" said the Gascon, impatient under this

raillery.

"Seen her? I? And why the devil should you suppose I had seen Blue

Beard?" asked the captain. "Are you mad?"

"Why?"

"Listen, my friends," said the captain to his passengers; "he asks me if

I have seen Blue Beard."

The passengers shrugged their shoulders.

"But," continued Croustillac, "what is there astonishing in my

question?"

"What is there astonishing?" said the captain.

"Yes."

"Hold; you come from Paris, do you not? and is Paris not much smaller

than Martinique?"

"Without doubt."

"Very well; have you seen the executioner at Paris?"

"The executioner? No, but why such a question?"

"Very well; once for all, understand that no one is any more curious to

see Blue Beard than to see the executioner, sir. Beside, the house in

which she lives is situated in the midst of the wilds of Devil's Cliff,

where one does not care to venture. Then an assassin is not an agreeable

companion, and Blue Beard has too bad associates."

"Bad associates?" said the chevalier.

"Yes, friends; friends of the heart; not to go into the matter any

further, it is a saying that it is not well to encounter them by night

on the plain; by night in the woods; or after sunset under the lee of

the island," said the captain.

"'Whirlwind'--the filibuster first," said one of the passengers with an

affrighted air.

"Or 'Rend the Soul'--the buccaneer of Marie-Galande," said another.

"Or 'Youmaeale,' the Caribbean cannibal of the lake of the Caimans,"

continued a third.

"What?" cried the chevalier, "does Blue Beard coquette at the same time

with a filibusterer, a buccaneer, and a cannibal? Bah! what a woman!"

"So they say, sir."

CHAPTER III.

THE ARRIVAL.

These singular revelations concerning the morals of Blue Beard made a

great impression upon the chevalier. After some moments of silence he

asked the captain, "Who is this man, this filibuster whom they term the

Whirlwind?"

"A mulatto from San Domingo, they say," replied Captain Daniel, "one of

the most determined filibusters of the Antilles; he has dwelt in

Martinique for the past two years, in a solitary house, where he lives

now like an alderman."

"And you think that this bully is favored by Blue Beard?"

"They say that all the time that he does not pass at his own house, he

is at Devil's Cliff."

"This proves at least that Blue Beard has never loved sentimental

swains!" said the chevalier. "Well, but the buccaneer?"

"Faith," cried one of the passengers, "I do not know if I would not

rather have the Whirlwind for an enemy than the buccaneer

'Rend-your-soul!'"

"Zounds! there is at least a name which holds possibilities," said

Croustillac.

"And which fulfills them," said the passenger, "for him I have seen."

"And is he so terrible?"

"He is certainly as ferocious as the wild boars or the bulls which he

hunts. I will tell you about him. It is now about a year since I was

going to his ranch in the Great Tari, in the northern part of

Martinique, to purchase of him some skins of wild cattle. He was alone

with his pack of twenty hounds who looked as wicked and savage as

himself. When I arrived he was anointing his face with palm oil, for

there was not a portion of it that was not blue, yellow, violet or

purple."

"I have had these irridescent shades from a blow on the eye, but----"

"Exactly, sir. I asked him what had caused this, and this is what he

told me: 'My hounds, led by my assistant, had flung themselves upon a

two-year-old bull; he had passed me, and I had sent a ball into his

shoulder; he bounded into a thicket; the dogs followed. While I was

reloading, my assistant came up, fired, and missed the bull. My boy,

seeing himself disarmed, sought to cut at the bull's legs, but it gored

him and stamped him underfoot. Placed as I was, I could not fire at the

animal for fear of finishing my man. I took my large buccaneer's knife

and threw myself between them. I received a blow of its horn which

ripped up my thigh, a second broke this arm (showing me his left arm,

which was suspended in a sling); the bull continued to attack me; as

there remained but the right hand that was of any use, I watched my

opportunity, and at the instant when the animal lowered his head to rip

me up, I seized him by the horns and drew him within reach, and seized

his lip with my teeth, and would no more let go than an English bulldog,

while my dogs worried his sides.'"

"But this man is a blockhead," said Croustillac, contemptuously. "If he

has no other means of pleasing--faith, I pity his mistress."

"I have told you that he was a species of savage animal," replied the

narrator, "but to continue my story. 'Once wounded on the lips,' said

the buccaneer, 'a bull falls. At the end of five minutes, blinded by the

loss of blood (for my bullets had done their work), the bull fell on his

knees and rolled over; my dogs sprang upon him, seized him by the

throat, and finished him. The struggle had weakened me; I had lost a

great deal of blood; for the first time in my life I fainted just like a

girl. And what do you suppose my dogs had been at during my swoon? They

had amused themselves by devouring my servant! They were so sharp and

well-trained.' 'How,' said I to Rend-your-soul, terrified, 'because

your dogs have devoured your servant, does that prove that they are

well-trained?' I declare, sir," continued the passenger who had related

this story of the buccaneer to the Gascon, "I looked with considerable

alarm upon these ferocious animals who walked round and round me and

smelt at me in a manner far from reassuring."

"The fact is, such customs as these are brutal," said Croustillac, "and

it would be a mistake to address such a man of the woods in the

beautiful language of gallantry. But what the devil can he indulge in in

the way of conversation with Blue Beard?"

"God forbid I should act as eavesdropper," exclaimed the passenger.

"When Rend-your-Soul has said to Blue Beard, 'I have seized a bull on

the lips, and my dogs have devoured my servants,'" replied the Gascon,

"the conversation would languish; and zounds! one cannot always be

feeding a man to the dogs in order to furnish entertainment."

"In faith, one cannot tell," said a listener; "these men are capable of

anything."

"But," said Croustillac, "such an animal can know nothing about small

courtesies; flowery language always takes the ladies."

"No, certainly," replied the narrator, whom we suspect of a slight

exaggeration of the facts, "for he swears enough to sink the island; and

he has a voice like the bellowing of a bull."

"That is easily accounted for; from frequenting their society he has

acquired their accent," said the chevalier; "but let us hear the end of

your story, I beg."

"Here it is. I demanded then of the buccaneer how he dared assert that

dogs who would devour a man were well trained. 'Doubtless,' replied he,

'my dogs are trained never to insert a tooth in a bull when he is down,

for I sell the skins, and they must be intact. Once the bull is dead

these poor brutes, hungry though they be, have the sense to respect it,

and to await its being skinned. Now this morning their hunger was

infernal; my servant was half dead and covered with blood. He was very

inhuman toward them; they began, no doubt, by licking his wounds; then,

as it is said the appetite increases with what it is fed on, this made

the mouths of the poor brutes water. Finally, they did not leave a bone

of my servant. Had it not been for the bite of a serpent which nipped

sharply but which was not venomous, I might have remained in my swoon. I

recovered consciousness; I wrenched the snake from my right leg, round

which it had coiled itself, I took it by the tail, I whirled it like a

sling and I crushed its head on the trunk of a guava tree. I examined

myself; I had a thigh ripped open and an arm broken; I bound the wound

in my thigh with fresh leaves and secured them by a vine. As to my left

arm, it was broken between the elbow and the wrist. I cut three little

sticks and a long creeper and I tied it up like a roll of tobacco. Once

my wounds dressed, I sought for my servant, for I could not see him. I

called him, there was no answer. My dogs were crouched at my feet; they

appeared so innocent, the cunning creatures! and looked at me as they

wagged their tails as if nothing was wrong. Finally I arose, and what

should I see at twenty paces distance but the remains of my servant. I

recognized his powder-horn and the sheath of his knife. That was all

that remained of him, I tell you this to prove to you that my dogs are

very snappish and well-trained; for they will not injure a hair on the

bull's skin.'"

"There, there! the buccaneer exceeds the filibuster," said Croustillac.

"I can only say that Blue Beard is greatly to be pitied for not having

had, up to this time, but an alternative of two such brutes." And the

Gascon continued compassionately, "It is very easy to understand, this

poor woman has not an idea of what constitutes a gentleman; when one has

all one's life fed on lard and beans, one cannot conceive of anything as

fine, as delicate as a pheasant or an ortolan. Zounds! I see it has been

reserved to me to enlighten Blue Beard on a variety of things, and to

discover to her a new world. As to the Caribbean, is he worthy of

figuring at the side of his ferocious rivals?"

"Oh, as to the Caribbean," said one of the passengers, "I can speak from

knowledge. I made this winter in his canoe the journey from Anse aux

Sable to Marie-Galande. I was pressed to reach this latter place. The

Riviere des Saints had overflowed, and I was compelled to make a great

circuit in order to find a place which could be forded. At the moment

when I embarked, I saw at the prow of the boat of Youmaeale a kind of

brown figure. I drew near; what did I see? My God! the head and arms

dried to that of a mummy, forming the figurehead as an ornament for his

canoe! We started on our voyage, the Caribbean silent, like the savage

that he was, paddled without uttering a word. Arriving off the Caribbean

Island, where a Spanish brigantine had stranded some months previous, I

asked him, 'Is it not here that the Spanish vessel was wrecked?' The

Caribbean nodded an assent. It would be as well to say here that on

board this vessel was the reverend Father Simon of Foreign Missions. His

reputation for sanctity was such that it had reached even the

Caribbeans; the brigantine had been wrecked, passengers and cargo--at

least such was believed to be the case. I said then to the Caribbean,

'Is it there that Father Simon perished--you have heard of it?' He made

me another affirmative sign with his head, for these people never speak

an unnecessary word. 'He was an excellent man,' I continued. 'I have

eaten him,' replied this wretched idolater, with a kind of ferocious and

satisfied pride.

"That was one method of enjoying a person," said Croustillac, "and of

sharing his qualities."

"For a moment," replied the passenger, "I did not understand what this

horrible cannibal was saying, but when I had compelled him to explain

himself, I learned that in accordance with I know not what savage

ceremony, the missionary and two sailors who had escaped to a desert

island had been surprised by the cannibals and eaten at once! When I

reproached Youmaeale for this barbarous atrocity, saying that it was

frightful to have sacrificed these three unhappy Frenchmen to their

ferocity, he replied, sententiously, and in a tone of approbation, as if

he would prove to me that he understood the force of my arguments in

classing, if not to their value, at least according to the flavor of

three different nationalities. 'You are right: a Spaniard never, a

Frenchman often, an Englishman always!'"

"This would prove that an Englishman is incomparably more delicate than

a Frenchman, and that a Spaniard is as tough as the devil," said

Croustillac; "but this gourmand will finish some day by devouring Blue

Beard when caressing her. If all this be true----"

"It is true, sir."

"It follows then positively that this young or old widow is not

insensible to the ferocious attractions of Rend-your-soul and of the

cannibal?"

"Public opinion accuses her thus."

"Are they often with her?"

"All the time Whirlwind is not engaged in privateering, that

Rend-your-soul is not hunting, and Youmaeale is not in the woods, they

pass with Blue Beard."

"Without becoming jealous of each other?"

"It is said that Blue Beard is as despotic as the Sultan of Turkey, and

she forbids their being jealous."

"Faith! what a seraglio she has! But listen, gentlemen: you know that I

am a Gascon; that they accuse us of exaggerating and you would

ridicule----"

But Captain Daniel interposed, with a serious air, which could not be

feigned, "When we arrive at Martinique ask the first creole whom you

meet as to this Blue Beard; and may St. John, my patron saint, curse me

if you will not hear concerning Blue Beard and her three friends the

same thing."

"And as to her immense wealth, will they also speak to me of that?"

asked the chevalier.

"They will tell you that the plantation where Devil's Cliff is situated

is one of the most beautiful in the island, and that Blue Beard

possesses a counting house at Fort St. Pierre, and that this counting

house, managed by a man in her employ, sends out each year five or six

vessels like the one we have just passed."

"I see how it is, then," said the chevalier in raillery. "Blue Beard is

a woman who is weary of riches and the pleasures of this world; in order

to distract her thoughts, she is capable of entertaining a buccaneer, a

filibuster, and even a cannibal, if her heart so dictates."

"That it pleases her is evident in that she is never bored," replied the

captain.

At this moment Father Griffen mounted to the deck. Croustillac said to

him, "Father, I have told these gentlemen that we are accused, we

Gascons, of telling fibs, but is what they say of Blue Beard the truth?"

The face of Father Griffen, ordinarily placid and joyful, took on a

darker hue at once, and he replied gravely to the adventurer, "My son,

never breathe the name of this woman."

"But, Father, is it true? She replaces her deceased husbands by a

filibuster, a buccaneer and a cannibal?"

"Enough, enough, my son," returned the priest, "I pray you do not speak

of Devil's Cliff and what goes on there."

"But, Father, is this woman as rich as they say?" pursued the Gascon,

whose eyes were snapping with covetousness; "has she such immense

treasures? Is she beautiful? Is she young?"

"May heaven defend me from ascertaining!"

"Is it true that her three husbands have been murdered by her, father?

If this be true, how is it that the law has not punished such crimes?"

"There are crimes that may escape the justice of men, my son, but they

never escape the justice of God. I do not know, however, if this woman

is as culpable as they say, but still I say, do not speak of her, my

son, I implore you," said Father Griffen, whom this interview seemed to

affect most painfully.

Suddenly the chevalier assumed a resolute attitude, pulled his hat down

over his forehead, caressed his mustache, balanced himself on his toes

like a barnyard fowl preparing for combat, and cried with an audacity of

which a Gascon alone is capable, "Gentlemen, tell me the day of the

month."

"The 13th of July," replied the captain.

"Well, gentlemen," continued our adventurer, "may I lose the name of De

Croustillac, may my coat of arms be forever smirched with disgrace, if

in one month from this very day, in spite of all the buccaneers,

filibusters or cannibals in Martinique or in the world, Blue Beard is

not the wife of Polypheme de Croustillac!"

That evening when they went down to the saloon the adventurer was taken

aside by Father Griffen; he sought by every possible means to ascertain

if the Gascon knew more than he appeared to, concerning the surroundings

of Blue Beard. The extraordinary persistence with which Croustillac

occupied himself with her and the men about her had aroused the

suspicions of the good priest. After speaking at some length on the

subject with the chevalier, the priest was almost certain that

Croustillac had not spoken other than by presumption and vanity.

"It matters not," said Father Griffen, "I'll not lose sight of this

adventurer; he has the appearance of an empty-headed fool, but traitors

know how to assume all guises. Alas!" continued he sadly, "this last

voyage imposes upon me great obligations toward those who dwell at

Devil's Cliff. Meantime, their secret is, so to speak, mine, but I have

done what I could; my conscience approves. May they long enjoy the

happiness they deserve, of escaping from the snares set for them. Ah!

what dangerous enemies kings are, and one often pays dearly for the

doubtful honor of being born on the steps of a throne. Alas!" went on

the priest with a profound sigh, "poor angelic woman, it rends my heart

to hear her thus spoken of, but it would be impolitic to defend her.

These rumors are the preservation of the noble creatures in whom I am so

deeply interested."

After considering awhile Father Griffen said to himself, "I at first

took this adventurer to be a secret emissary from England, but I am

doubtless deceived. Nevertheless, I will watch this man. In fact, I will

offer him the hospitality of my house; thus his movements will not

escape me. In any case, I will warn my friends at Devil's Cliff to

redouble their prudence, for, I know not why, the presence of this

Gascon disturbs me."

We will here hasten to inform the reader that the suspicions of Father

Griffen, so far as Croustillac was concerned, were without foundation.

The chevalier was nothing more than the poor devil of an adventurer

which we have shown him to be. The excellent opinion he held of himself

was the sole cause of his impertinent wager of espousing Blue Beard

before the end of the month.

CHAPTER IV.

THE PRIEST'S HOUSE.

The Unicorn had anchored at Martinique three days. Father Griffen,

having some matters requiring his attention before his return to his

parish of Macouba, had not as yet quitted Fort St. Pierre.

The Chevalier de Croustillac found himself landed in the colonies with

but very little money in his pocket. The captain and passengers had

considered the adventurer's declaration that before a month had passed

he would be the husband of Blue Beard, as an idle boast. Far from having

given up the idea, the chevalier persisted in it more and more since his

arrival in Martinique; he had carefully informed himself as to the

riches of Blue Beard, and was convinced that, if the life of this

strange woman was surrounded with the profoundest mystery, and she the

subject of the wildest exaggeration, it was at least true that she was

enormously wealthy.

As to her face, age and origin, as no one had on this point as much

knowledge as Father Griffen, nothing could be affirmed. She was a

stranger in the colony. Her man of business had come in advance to the

island in order to purchase a magnificent estate and to build the

mansion at Devil's Cliff, situated in the northern and most inaccessible

and wildest portion of Martinique. At the end of several months it

became known that the new proprietor and his wife had arrived. One or

two of the colonists, impelled by their curiosity, had penetrated into

the solitude of Devil's Cliff; they were received with a royal

hospitality, but they did not see the owners of the place. Six months

after this visit, news was received of the death of the first husband,

which occurred during a short visit taken by the couple to Terre-Ferme.

At the end of one year of absence and widowhood, Blue Beard returned to

Martinique with a second husband. It was said that this latter was

killed, accidentally, while taking a walk with his wife; his foot

slipped and he fell into one of those bottomless abysses which are so

common in the volcanic soil of the Antilles. Such was, at least, the

explanation that his wife gave concerning his mysterious death.

No one knew anything positive concerning the third husband of Blue Beard

and his death.

These three deaths, so close together, so mysterious, caused strange

stories to be circulated regarding this woman, and reached the ears of

the Governor of Martinique, who was then Chevalier de Crussol; he

started with an escort for Devil's Cliff; arriving at the foot of the

thickly-wooded ascent, on the summit of which towered the mansion, he

found a mulatto who gave him a letter. After reading this letter, the

governor showed great surprise, and ordering his escort to await his

return, he followed the slave, alone.

At the expiration of four hours the governor returned with his guide,

and immediately retraced his steps to St. Pierre. Some of those who

formed his escort remarked that he was very pale and very much agitated.

From that moment until the day of his death, which occurred thirteen

months to the very day after his visit to Devil's Cliff, no one ever

heard him pronounce the name of Blue Beard. The governor made a long

confession to Father Griffen, who came to him from Macouba. It was

observed that in leaving the penitent, Father Griffen appeared to have

received a great shock.

From that time the kind of fatal and mysterious reputation which had

attached itself to the name of Blue Beard increased day by day.

Superstition mingled with the terror which she inspired, until her name

was never mentioned without terror; it was firmly believed that she had

assassinated her three husbands, and that she had escaped punishment by

law only through the power of her wealth, thus purchasing the support of

the different governors who succeeded each other in turn. No one, then,

was tempted to trouble Blue Beard with visits to the wild and solitary

place in which she dwelt, above all since the cannibal, the buccaneer

and the privateer had come, as they said, to be companions or consolers

to the widow.

Whether or not these men had ever legally rendered themselves liable for

any crime, it was asserted that they pursued with an implacable hatred

and vengeance all who attempted to come near Blue Beard. By reason of

being repeated and exaggerated, these threats bore their fruit. The

islanders care little to go, perhaps at the peril of their lives, to

penetrate into the mysteries of Devil's Cliff. It required the desperate

audacity of a Gascon in extremity, to attempt to surprise the secret of

Blue Beard and undertake to espouse her. Such was possibly the fixed

design of the Chevalier de Croustillac; he was not a man to renounce so

easily the hope, insane as it was, of marrying a woman worth millions;

beautiful or plain, young or old, it mattered little to him.

As a means to success, he counted upon his good carriage, his spirit,

his amiability, and his manner, at the same time gallant and proud--for

the chevalier had an excellent opinion of himself--but he counted still

more on his wit, his cunning, and his courage. In fine, a man alert and

determined, who had nothing to lose and feared nothing, who believed

implicitly in himself and his star; who could say to himself as did

Croustillac, "In risking death during a moment--for death can be but a

moment's agony--I _may_ live in luxury and opulence"--such a man can

perform miracles above all when he undertakes a project with such a

grand object and as stimulating as that proposed by Croustillac.

According to his resolve, Father Griffen, after he had brought to a

close the affairs which detained him at St. Pierre, invited the

chevalier to accompany him to Macouba, to remain there until the Unicorn

should sail again for France. Macouba being distant not more than four

or five leagues from Devil's Cliff, the chevalier, who had spent his

three crowns and who found himself without resources, accepted the offer

of the worthy priest, without further enlightening him as to his resolve

concerning Blue Beard; this he would not reveal until the moment arrived

to put it into execution.

After taking leave of Captain Daniel, the chevalier and the priest

embarked in a small boat. Favored by a good wind from the south, they

set sail for Macouba. Croustillac appeared indifferent to the

magnificent and novel scenes which were afforded by the coast of

Martinique, seen from the water; the tropical vegetation whose verdure,

of a tone almost metallic, outlined on a glowing sky, affected him very

little.

The adventurer, with his eyes fixed on the scintillating wake which the

boat left behind her, seemed to see flashing the living rays of Blue

Beard's diamonds; the little green herbs, standing in relief from the

submerged meadows which edged the winding shores, pictured to the Gascon

the emeralds of the widow; while some drops of water sparkled in the sun

in the fall of the oars made him dream of the sacks of pearls which the

terrible resident at Devil's Cliff possessed.

Father Griffen was also deeply absorbed; after thinking of his friends

at Devil's Cliff, he turned his thoughts, with a mixture of disquietude

and joy, to his little flock at home, his garden, his poor and

unpretentious church, his house, his favorite horse, his dog, and his

two slaves who had always given him the most devoted service. And

then--shall we say it?--he thought of certain preserves which he had

made some days before his departure, and as to the condition of which he

was ignorant.

In three hours our travelers arrived at Macouba. Father Griffen had not

long to wait; the canoe was moored in a little bay, not far from the

river which watered this section, one of the most fertile of Martinique.

Father Griffen leaned upon the chevalier's arm. After having for a time

followed the shore where the high and powerful waves of the Caribbean

Sea rolled on, they reached the village of Macouba, composed of some

hundred houses built of wood and covered with roses and palms.

The village was built on a semicircular plan which followed the outline

of the Bay of Macouba, a little port where many canoes and fishing boats

were built. The church was a long wooden edifice from the center of

which four beams arose, surmounted by a little belfry in which was hung

a bell; the church overlooked the village, and was in turn overshadowed

by immense cliffs, covered by rich vegetation, which made an

amphitheatre of living green.

The sun was rapidly setting. The priest trod the only street that

crossed Macouba, and which led to the church. Some small negroes,

absolutely nude, were rolling in the dust; uttering loud cries; they

fled at the approach of the priest. A number of creole women, white or

of mixed blood, dressed in long robes of Indian and madras cloth, in

striking colors, ran to the doors; recognizing Father Griffen, they

testified to their surprise and joy; young and old hastened to

respectfully kiss his hand, and to say in creole, "Blessed is your

return, good Father; you have been missed in Macouba." Numbers of men

came out at once and surrounded Father Griffen, with the same tokens of

attachment and respect.

While the priest talked with the villagers of the events which had taken

place at Macouba during his absence, and in turn gave them news of

France, the housewives, fearing that the good father would not find

sufficient provision at the parsonage, had retired to select, one a fine

fish, another a beautiful pullet; this one the quarter of a fine fat

buck, that one some fruits or vegetables, and a number of little negroes

were ordered to carry to the parsonage these voluntary tithes.

The priest reached his house, situated on one side, at some distance

from the village, overlooking the sea. Nothing could be more simple than

this modest wooden house, covered with roses, and of one story. Curtains

of clear linen dressed the windows and took the place of blinds, which

were a great luxury in the colonies.

A large room, comprising at the same time parlor and dining room,

communicated with the kitchen built at the rear; at the left of this

principal room were the bedroom of Father Griffen, and two other small

rooms opening into the garden and set apart for strangers or the other

priests of Martinique who might, at times, ask the hospitality of their

brother priest.

A henhouse, a stable for the horse, lodgings for two negroes, and

several sheds, completed this establishment, furnished with a rustic

simplicity. The garden had been carefully laid out. Four broad paths

were divided by many beds bordered by thyme, lavender, wild thyme,

hyssop and other fragrant plants. The four principal beds were

subdivided into numerous little ones set apart for vegetables or fruits,

but surrounded by wide borders of fragrant flowers. Between two little

walls of verdure, covered with Arabian jasmine and odorous creepers,

could be seen, in the horizon, the sea and the hills of the other

islands.

No fresher or more charming spot than this garden, in which the most

beautiful flowers mingled with fruits and magnificent vegetables, could

be found. Here a bed of melons, of an amber color, was bordered by dwarf

pomegranates, shaped like a small box and covered at the same time with

purple blossoms and fruit so heavy and so abundant that it touched the

earth. A little further on, a branch of Angola wood with its long, green

husks, and its blue flowers, was surrounded by a line of white and pink

almonds, sweet with perfume; the carrot plant, sorrel, gimgambo and

leek, were hidden in a fourfold rank of tuberoses of the richest tints;

finally, came a square of pineapples which perfumed the air, having a

row of magnificent cacti for a border, with yellow calix and long silver

pistils. Behind the house extended an orchard composed of cocoanuts,

bananas, guava, tamarind, and orange trees, whose branches were weighted

down to the earth with flowers and fruit.

Father Griffen followed the paths of his garden with unspeakable

happiness, observing each flower, plant and tree. His two slaves

attended him; one was called Monsieur, the other Jean. These two good

creatures, weeping with joy at the sight of their master, could not

reply to his questions, so much affected were they, and could only say

one to the other, with hands raised to heaven, "God be praised--he is

here! he is here!"

The chevalier, indifferent to the joy of the natives, followed the

priest mechanically; he was consumed with the desire to inquire of his

host if, through the woods which rose in an amphitheatre, one could see

the road to Devil's Cliff.

After examining his garden, the good priest went out to inspect his

horse which he had named Grenadille, and his large English mastiff

called Snog; as soon as he opened the stable door Snog threw himself

upon his master and bounded around him. He not only jumped upon him but

barked with joy, with such evidence of affection that the negro,

Monsieur, was obliged to take the dog by his collar and could with

difficulty restrain him, while the priest caressed Grenadille, whose

glossy coat and well-covered ribs bore testimony to the good care of

Monsieur, who had charge of the stable.

After this thorough visit through his little domain, Father Griffen

conducted the chevalier into the bedroom which he had intended for him.

A bed draped with a mosquito-netting under a linen canopy, a large

bureau of mahogany wood, and a table, was the furnishing of this room,

which opened upon the garden. Its only ornament was a crucifix suspended

from the center of the slightly roughened wainscot.

"You will find here a poor and modest hospitality," said Father Griffen

to the chevalier, "but it is offered you with a good heart."

"And I accept it with gratitude, Father," said Croustillac.

At this moment Monsieur came to announce that supper was ready, and

Father Griffen led the way to the dining room.

CHAPTER V.

THE SURPRISE.

A large glass wherein burned a candle of yellow wax, lighted the table;

the dishes were placed on a table cloth of coarse but very white linen.

There was no silver; the steel knives, and spoons of maple wood, were of

great neatness. A bottle of blue glass contained about a pint of canary;

in a large pewter pot bubbled the _oagou_, a fermented beverage made

from the grain of sugar cane; a sealed earthen vessel held water, as

fresh as if it were iced.

A fine dorado grilled in its scales (a Caribbean dish), a roasted

paroquet of the size of a pheasant, two dishes of sea crabs cooked in

the shell and served with sauce of the citron juice, and a salad of

green peas, had been symmetrically placed on the table by the negro

Jean, around a centerpiece composed of a large basket containing a

pyramid of fruit, which had at its base a European melon, a watermelon,

and at its summit a pineapple; there was a side dish of sliced

palm-cabbage dressed with vinegar, and little whitefish preserved in

spiced pickle, which would tempt the appetite of the guests or excite

their thirst.

"You are treating me with royal magnificence, Father," said the

chevalier to the priest. "This island is the 'promised land,' surely."

"With the exception of the canary wine, which was a gift, my son, all

this is the product of the garden which I cultivate, or the fishing and

hunting of my two slaves, for the offerings of my parish are

superfluous, thanks to the foresight of Monsieur and Jean, who were

advised of my arrival by a sailor at Fort St. Pierre. Help yourself to

this paroquet, my son," said the priest to the chevalier, who appeared

to find the fish very much to his taste.

Croustillac hesitated a moment and looked at the priest in an uncertain

manner. "I do not know why, but it seems strange to eat a paroquet,"

said the chevalier.

"Try it, try it," responded the priest, and he placed a wing on his

plate. "Is a pheasant's flesh more plump or more golden? It is cooked to

a marvel; and then, did you ever smell anything more appetizing?"

"I should say four spices are employed," said the chevalier, inhaling

the odor.

"It is claimed that these birds are very fond of the berry of the Indian

trees which they find in the forest; these trees have at once the taste

of cinnamon, clove and pepper, and the flesh of the game partakes of the

scent of this aromatic tree. How this juice is flavored. Add a little of

the orange sugar, and then tell me if the Lord has not blessed his

creatures in bestowing such gifts upon them?"

"In all my life I have never eaten anything more tender, more delicate

or more savory than this," replied the chevalier, with full mouth, and

half shutting his eyes in sensual enjoyment.

"Is it not good?" said the good priest, who, knife and fork in hand,

looked at his guest with satisfied pride.

The repast ended, Monsieur placed a pot of tobacco and pipes at the side

of the bottle of canary, and Father Griffen and Croustillac were then

left alone.

After filling a glass of wine and passing it to the chevalier, the

priest said to him, "Your health, my son."

"Thanks, father," said the chevalier, lifting his glass. "Drink also to

the health of my future bride; it will be a good omen for me."

"How? your future bride?" replied the priest; "what do you mean?"

"I allude to Blue Beard, father."

"Ah--always jesting! Frankly, I believe the men of your province are

most inventive, my son," said Father Griffen, smiling mischievously, and

emptying his glass in small doses.

"I never spoke more seriously, father. You heard the vow which I made on

board the Unicorn?"

"Impossibility nullifies a vow, my son; because you should swear to

measure the ocean, would you engage to fulfill this oath?"

"How, Father--is the heart of Blue Beard as bottomless as the ocean?"

gayly exclaimed the chevalier.

"An English poet has said of woman, 'Perfidious as the waves,' my son."

"However perfidious women may be, my worthy host," said the chevalier

with a self-sufficient air, "we men know how to disarm them, and I shall

exercise afresh that power in dealing with Blue Beard."

"You will not attempt anything of the kind, my son; I am easy on that

point."

"Allow me to say, father, that you deceive yourself. To-morrow, at

daybreak, I shall ask of you a guide to conduct me to Devil's Cliff, and

I shall confide the course of this adventure to my Star."

The chevalier spoke with so serious an air that Father Griffen hastily

placed upon the table the glass which he was raising to his lips, and

regarded the chevalier with as much astonishment as distrust. Until then

he had really believed the matter to be only a pleasantry or idle boast.

"Are you sincere in this resolve? This is absolute madness, but----"

"Excuse me, Father, for interrupting you," said the chevalier, "but you

see before you the younger son of my family, who has tempted every

fortune, wasted all his resources, and with whom nothing has succeeded.

Blue Beard is rich, very rich. I have everything to gain, nothing to

lose."

"Nothing to lose?"

"Life, perhaps, you will say. I make a good bargain; and then, barbarous

though this country may be, helpless as justice may prove, I do not

think that Blue Beard will dare treat me, on my arrival, as she treated

her three husbands; if so, you will know that I have fallen a victim;

you will demand an account of my death. I risk nothing more than seeing

my homage rejected. Ah! well, if such be the case, if she repulses me, I

shall continue to delight Captain Daniel during his trips by swallowing

lighted candles and balancing bottles on the end of my nose. Certainly

such an occupation is honorable and amusing, but I prefer another life.

So, then, no matter what you say, Father, I am resolved to attempt the

adventure and to go to Devil's Cliff. I cannot tell you what secret

presentiment tells me I shall succeed, that I am upon the eve of seeing

my destiny fulfill itself in a most wonderful manner. The future seems

tinted with rose and gold; I dream only of magnificent palaces, wealth,

and beauty; it seems to me (excuse the pagan comparison) that Love and

Fortune have come and taken me by the hands and are saying to me,

'Polypheme de Croustillac, happiness awaits thee.' You will say,

perhaps, Father," continued the chevalier, throwing a mocking glance at

his faded coat, "that I am poorly dressed to present myself in this

beautiful and brave company of fortune and happiness; but Blue Beard,

who must be intelligent, will comprehend at once that under this

outside, the heart of an Amadis, the spirit of a Gascon, and the courage

of a Caesar dwells."

After a moment's silence the priest, instead of smiling at the

pleasantries of the chevalier, said to him in a tone that was most

solemn, "Is your resolve finally taken?"

"Unwaveringly and absolutely taken, Father."

"Hear me then; I heard the confessions of the Chevalier de Crussol, the

former governor of this island; he who, when the third husband of this

woman disappeared, went to Devil's Cliff."

"Well, father?"

"While I must respect the secrets of the confessional, I can, I must,

tell you that if you persist in your insane project, you expose yourself

to great and unavoidable peril. Without doubt, if you lose your life,

your death will not remain unpunished; but there will be no means of

preventing the fatal end upon which you would rush. Who obliges you to

go to Devil's Cliff? The resident of that place wishes to live in

solitude; the barriers of that abode are such that you cannot break them

down without violence; for in every country, and above all in this one,

he who trespasses upon the property of another exposes himself to grave

danger--danger the greater that all idea of a union with this widow is

impossible, even if you were of a princely house."

These words hurt immeasurably the self-esteem of the Gascon, who

exclaimed, "Father, this woman is but a woman, and _I_ am Croustillac."

"What do you say, my son?"

"That this woman is free; that she has not seen me; that but one look,

one only, will change entirely her resolve."

"I do not think it."

"Reverend Father, I have the greatest, the blindest confidence in your

word; I know all its authority; but this concerns the fair sex, and you

cannot understand the heart of woman as _I_ understand it, you do not

know what inexplicable caprices they are capable of; you do not know

that what pleases them to-day displeases them to-morrow; and that they

wish for to-day, that which they disdained yesterday. With women, my

reverend sir, one must dare in order to succeed. If it were not for your

cloth, I would tell you some curious adventures and audacious

undertakings by which I have been recompensed amorously!"

"My son!"

"I understand your sensitiveness, Father, and to return to Blue Beard:

once in her presence, I shall treat her not only with effrontery, with

haughtiness, but as a victor--I dare say it, as a lion who comes proudly

to carry off his prey."

These remarks of the chevalier were interrupted by an unforeseen

accident. It was very warm; the door of the dining room which looked on

the garden was half open. The chevalier, with back turned to this door,

was seated in an arm chair with a wooden back which was not very high. A

sharp hissing sound was heard and a quick blow vibrated in the middle of

the chevalier's chair.

At this sound Father Griffen bounded from his chair, rushed and took his

gun down from a rack placed in his bedroom, and precipitated himself out

of doors, crying, "Jean! Monsieur! Take your guns! Follow me, my

children! follow me! The Caribbeans are upon us!"

CHAPTER VI.

THE WARNING.

All this took place so rapidly that the chevalier was dumfounded. "Get

up! get up!" cried the priest. "The Caribbeans! Look at the back of your

chair--get out of the light!"

The chevalier rose quickly, and saw an arrow three feet in length fixed

in the back of his chair. Two inches higher and the chevalier would have

been pierced through the shoulders. Croustillac seized his sword, which

he had left on a chair, and hurried after the priest.

Father Griffen, at the head of his two negroes, armed with their guns,

and preceded by his mastiff, sought for the enemy; unfortunately, the

door of the dining room opened upon a trellised orchard; the night was

dark; doubtless the person who had sped the arrow was already far away,

or well hidden in the top of some thick tree.

Snog bounded hither and thither in the eagerness of his search. Father

Griffen recalled his two slaves who were too venturesome and would have

penetrated into the orchard.

"Well, father, where are they?" said the chevalier, brandishing his

sword: "shall we charge upon them? A lantern--give me a lantern; we will

visit the orchard and the neighborhood of the house."

"No, no, not a lantern, my son, it would serve to point us out to the

assailants if there are a number, and you would be too much exposed; you

would receive an arrow in you. Come, come," said the priest, lowering

his gun after some moments of attentive scrutiny; "it is but an alarm;

let us return and thank the Lord for the clumsiness of this cannibal,

for if he had not blundered, you would not be here, my son. What

astonishes me, and for which I thank God, is that you have escaped; a

native so bold as to make such an attempt should have a true eye and a

sure hand."

"But what harm have you ever done these savages, Father?"

"None! I have often been in their settlement at the Isle des Saintes,

and have always been properly received; thus I cannot understand the

object of this attack. But let us look at this arrow--I shall know from

the feather if it is a native arrow."

"We must keep a good watch, to-night, Father, and to this end confide in

me," said the Gascon. "You see that it is not only in a love affair that

I have firmness."

"I do not doubt you, my son, and I accept your offer. I will fasten the

windows securely against the assassins, and bar the door strongly. Snog

will act as picket. It will not be the first time this house has stood a

siege; a dozen English pirates attacked it two years ago, but with my

slaves and the aid of an official from Cabesterre, who was accidentally

at my house, we punished the heretics severely."

So saying, Father Griffen entered the dining room, withdrawing with some

effort the iron-barbed arrow which stuck in the back of the chair, he

exclaimed with surprise, "There is a paper attached to the feather of

this arrow!" Then, unfolding it, he read these words, written in a large

and bold hand: "Warning number one, to the Chevalier de Croustillac."

"To the Rev. Father Griffen, respect and affection."

The priest looked at the chevalier without saying a word. He, in turn,

took the bit of paper and read it.

"What does this mean?" he exclaimed.

"It means that I have not been deceived in speaking of the sure aim of

the Caribbeans. The person who shot the arrow could have killed you had

he so willed. See! this arrow tip is poisoned, doubtless; it entered an

inch into the back of this chair of hard wood; if it had struck you, you

would be dead. What skill was displayed in thus guiding this arrow!"

"Zounds, Father! I find it rather more marvelous that I am not touched,"

said the Gascon. "But what the devil have I done to this savage?"

Father Griffen struck his forehead with his hand. "When I have read you

this?" he exclaimed.

"Read what, Father?"

"Warning number one, to the Chevalier de Croustillac."

"Well?"

"Well! this warning comes from Devil's Cliff."

"You believe it to be so?"

"I am sure of it. They have learned of your project and they desire to

force you to give it up."

"How can they have learned it?"

"You did not hide it on board the Unicorn. Some of the passengers,

disembarking three days ago at St. Pierre, have spoken of it; this rumor

has reached the counting house of Blue Beard and her business manager

has informed his employer."

"I am forced to confess," replied the chevalier, after a moment's

reflection, "that Blue Beard has singular means of corresponding with

one. This is a queer little mail."

"Ah, well, my son, I hope the lesson will profit you," said the priest.

Then he continued, addressing the two slaves who were carrying in the

blinds and were about to raise them into place, "It is unnecessary, my

children, I see there is nothing to fear."

The slaves, accustomed to a blind obedience, took away the impromptu

defenses.

The chevalier looked at the priest with astonishment.

"Without doubt," said the good father, "the word of the dwellers at

Devil's Cliff is sacred; I have nothing at present to fear from them,

nor you either, my son, because you are warned, and you will necessarily

give up your mad plan."

"I, Father?"

"How----"

"May I become blacker this moment than your two negroes if I renounce

it."

"What do you say--after such a warning?"

"Well, who is to tell me that this warning comes from Blue Beard? It may

come from a rival--from the buccaneer, the filibuster, or the cannibal.

For I have quite a selection among the gallant admirers of the beauty

of Devil's Cliff."

"Ah, well, what does it signify----"

"How? What does it signify, Father? But I intend to show these would-be

wits what the blood of a De Croustillac is! Ah! they think to intimidate

me! They do not know this sword which, look you, would move in its

scabbard! whose steel would blush with indignation if I were to renounce

my undertaking!"

"My son, this is madness, sheer madness----"

"And what a coward, what a sheep, would the Chevalier de Croustillac

appear in the eyes of Blue Beard if he were so pusillanimous as to be

daunted by so little!"

"By so little! but two inches higher and you would have been killed!"

"But as it was two inches lower, and I was _not_ killed, I will

consecrate my life to taming the willful heart of Blue Beard and to

vanquishing my rivals, be they ten, twenty, thirty, one hundred or ten

thousand," replied the Gascon, with growing enthusiasm.

"But if this act was the order of the mistress of Devil's Cliff?"

"If it was done by her order, she shall see, the cruel one, that I will

brave the death to which she would send me, in order to reach her heart.

She is a woman; she will appreciate such valor. I do not know if she is

a Venus but I know that without wronging the god Mars I Polypheme Amador

de Croustillac am terribly martial; and from beauty to courage there is

but a step."

One must imagine the exaggeration and Gascon accent of the chevalier to

have an idea of this scene.

Father Griffen hardly knew whether to laugh or to be appalled at the

opinionated resolve of the chevalier. The secret of the confessional

forbade his speaking, from entering into any details concerning Devil's

Cliff; he knew not how to induce the chevalier to renounce his fatal

intention. He had endeavored to do so, but in vain.

"If nothing can withhold you, my son, it cannot be said that I have

been, even indirectly, an accomplice in your mad enterprise. You are

ignorant of the position of Devil's Cliff; neither myself, nor my

slaves, nor, I assure you, any of my parishioners will be your guide. I

have instructed them to refuse. Beside the reputation of Blue Beard is

such that no one would care to infringe my orders."

This declaration of the priest's seemed to make the chevalier reflect.

He bent his head in silence then he began again resolutely: "I know that

Devil's Cliff is some four leagues from this spot; it is situated in the

northern part of the island. My heart will serve as a compass to guide

me to the lady of my thoughts, with the assistance of the sun and the

moon."

"But, madman," cried the priest, "there is no path through the forests

which you would traverse; the trees are so thick that they would hide

from you the position of the sun--you would be lost."

"I shall go right ahead; I shall arrive somewhere. Your island is not so

large (be it said without disparaging Martinique), Father; then I shall

retrace my steps, and I shall seek until I find Devil's Cliff."

"But the soil of the forest is often impassable; it is infested with

serpents of the most dangerous species; I say to you that in what you

propose, you are courting a thousand deaths."

"Ah, well, Father, 'nothing venture, nothing have.' If there are

serpents I will get upon stilts after the manner of the natives of my

country."

"Going to walk on stilts in the midst of creepers, brambles, rocks,

trees overturned by storms? I tell you, you do not know our forests."

"If one always considered the perils of an undertaking one would never

accomplish any good. Did you think of the deadly fevers when you tended

those of your parishioners who were attacked with it?"

"But my object was a pious one; I risked death in the observance of my

duty; while you rush upon yours out of vanity."

"Vanity, Father! A companion who has sacks filled with diamonds and fine

pearls, and probably five or six millions more in gold! Zounds! what a

'vanity!'"

Having seen the futility of overcoming such unparalleled

opinionativeness, the good priest said no more.

He conducted his guest to the room assigned to him, fully resolved to

put every difficulty possible in the way of the chevalier the next day.

Inflexible in his resolve, Croustillac slept profoundly. A lively

curiosity had come to the aid of a natural obstinacy and an

imperturbable confidence in his destiny; the more this confidence had

been, till then, disappointed, the more our adventurer believed that the

promised hour was about to come to him. The following morning, at break

of day, he arose and went on tiptoe to the door of Father Griffen's

room. The priest still slept, not thinking for a moment that the

chevalier would dream of starting off on a journey through an unknown

country without a guide. He deceived himself.

Croustillac, in order to escape the solicitation and reproaches of his

host, started at once. He girded on his formidable sword, a weapon very

inconvenient to travel with through a forest; he jammed his hat well

down on his head, took a staff in his hand with which to frighten the

serpents, and with firm tread and nose in the air, though with a heart

beating rather rapidly, he quitted the hospitable house of the priest of

Macouba, and directed his steps toward the north, for some time

following the extremely thick vegetation of the forest. He shortly

afterward made a circuit of this dense vegetation, which formed an angle

toward the east, and stretched indefinitely in that direction.

From the moment that the chevalier entered the forest, he did not

hesitate in the slightest degree. He recalled the wise counsels of

Father Griffen; he thought of the dangers which he was going to

encounter; but he also invoked the thought of Blue Beard's treasures; he

was dazzled by the heaps of gold, pearls, rubies and diamonds which he

believed he saw sparkling and quivering before his eyes. He pictured to

himself the owner of Devil's Cliff, a being of perfect beauty. Led on by

this vision, he entered resolutely the forest, and pushed aside the

heavy screen of creepers which were suspended from the limbs of the

trees which they draped.

The chevalier did not forget to beat the bushes with his staff, crying

out in a loud voice, "Out, ye serpents, out!"

With the exception of the voice of the Gascon, there was not a sound.

The sun rose; the air, freshened by the plenteous dew of the night, and

by the sea breeze, was impregnated with the aromatic odors of the

forest, and its tropical flowers. The rest was still plunged in the

shadow when the chevalier entered it.

For some time the profound silence reigning in this imposing solitude

was only broken by the blows of the chevalier's staff on the bushes, and

by his repeated cries, "Out, ye serpents, out!"

Little by little these sounds grew fainter and then ceased all at once.

The gloomy and profound silence which reigned was suddenly broken in

upon by a kind of savage howl which had in it nothing human. This sound,

and the first rays of the sun trembling on the horizon, like a sheaf of

light, appeared to rouse the inhabitants of the great forest. They

responded one after another until the uproar became infernal. The

chattering of monkeys; the cry of wildcats; the hissing of serpents; the

grunts of wild boars; the bellowing of cattle, broke from every

direction with a frightful chorus; the echoes of the forest and the

cliffs repeated these discordant sounds; one would have supposed a band

of demons was responding to a superior demon's call.

CHAPTER VII.

THE CAVERN.

While the chevalier sought a road to Devil's Cliff by which to traverse

the forest, we will conduct our readers toward the most southern portion

of the coast of Martinique.

The sea rolled with slow majesty at the foot of large rocks near a peak

which formed a natural defense to this part of the island, and which

rose in a perpendicular wall some two hundred feet in height. The

continued beating of the waves rendered this coast so dangerous that a

vessel could not touch at this place without being, inevitably, broken

to pieces.

The site of which we speak had a wild and grand simplicity; a wall of

barren rocks, of a dull red, was outlined on a sky of sapphire blue;

their base was swallowed up in a whirl of snowy foam, hidden by the

incessant shock of enormous mountains of water which broke upon these

reefs in tones of thunder. The sun with all its strength threw a

brilliant, torrid light on this mass of granite; there was not a cloud

in the brazen heavens. On the horizon there appeared through a burning

vapor the high land of the other Antilles.

At some distance from the coast, where the waves broke, the sea was of a

somber blue, and as calm as a mirror. An object scarcely perceptible,

because it offered little surface above the water, approached rapidly

the portion of this island called Cabesterre.

Little by little, a long, light canoe was to be distinguished, whose

stern and bow cut the sea evenly; this vessel, without sails, was

impelled forward by the strength of the waves. On each seat was clearly

seen a man vigorously rowing. Whether or not the coast was as

unapproachable at three leagues as at this place, it was evident that

the canoe was directed toward these rocks.

The object of those who were approaching seemed to be hard to

understand. Presently the canoe was caught in the midst of the surf

beating upon these reefs. Had it not been for the marvelous ability of

its pilot, who avoided these masses of water following the frail bark

and incessantly menacing it, she would very soon have been swallowed up.

At two gunshots from the rocks, the canoe reversed and rested, and took

advantage of an interval in the succession of waves, at a moment of

calm, which occurred periodically after seven or eight waves had broken

into foam.

The two men, who by their clothing were easily seen to be European

sailors, pressing their caps more securely on their heads, sprang

overboard and boldly struck out for the shore while their companions

turned at the edge of this calm, regained the open, and disappeared

after having braved anew the fury of the mountainous waves with

wonderful skill.

During this time the two intrepid swimmers, by turn submerged or cast up

from the midst of the enormous waves which they adroitly traversed,

arrived at the foot of the rocks in the center of a sea of foam. They

appeared to be rushing upon certain death, and it looked as if they

would be dashed to pieces upon the reefs. Nothing of the sort occurred,

however. These two men seemed to perfectly understand the coast; they

directed their course toward a place where the violence of the waves had

hollowed out a natural grotto.

The waves, engulphing themselves under this roof with a horrible din

fell back from it in a cataract into a smaller basin, hollow and deep.

After some heavy undulations, the waves grew feebler; in the center of a

gigantic cavern formed a little subterranean lake which, when full,

returned to the sea by some hidden channel.

It required great temerity to so abandon themselves to the impulse of

these furious waves which precipitated them into the abyss; but this

momentary submersion was more frightful than dangerous; the mouth of

the cave was so large that there was no danger of being bruised by the

rocks, and the cloud of foam threw them into the midst of a peaceful

pond, surrounded by a fine, sandy beach.

Sifting through the fall of water which bubbled at the entrance of this

enormous roof, the light was feeble, soft, and bluish like that of the

moon.

The two swimmers, breathless, deafened and wounded by the shook of the

waves, emerged from the little lake and stretched themselves on the

sand, where they rested for some time.

The larger of these two men, though he was dressed like a common sailor,

was Colonel Rutler, a stanch partisan of the new King of England,

William of Orange, under whose orders he had served when the son-in-law

of the unfortunate James II. was only a stadtholder of Holland. Colonel

Rutler was robust and tall; his face wore an expression of audacity,

bordering on cruelty; his hair, lying in close, damp meshes, was of a

deep red; his mustache of the same color hid a large mouth overshadowed

by a hooked nose, resembling the beak of a bird of prey.

Rutler, a faithful and resolute man, served his master with blind

devotion. William of Orange had testified his confidence in him by

intrusting to him a mission as difficult as it was dangerous, the nature

of which we shall know later on. The sailor who accompanied the colonel

was slight but vigorous, active and determined.

The colonel said to him in English, after a moment's silence, "Are you

sure, John, that there is a passage leading from here?"

"The passage exists, colonel, be easy on that score."

"But I do not perceive any----"

"By and by, colonel, when your view shall have become accustomed to this

half light, like that of the moon, you will lay yourself down flat on

your stomach, and there, at the right, at the end of a long natural

passage in which one cannot advance except by crawling, you will

perceive the light of day which penetrates through a crevasse in the

rock."

"If the road is sure, it certainly is not easy."

"So far from easy, colonel, that I defy the captain of the brigantine

who brought you to the Barbadoes, with his great stomach, to enter the

passage which remains for us to travel. It is as much as I could do

heretofore to glide through; it is the size of the tunnel of a chimney."

"And it leads?"

"To the bottom of a precipice which forms a defense for Devil's Cliff;

three sides of this precipice are a peak, and it is as impossible to

descend as to ascend it; but as to the fourth side, it is not

inaccessible, and with the help of the jutting rocks one can reach by

this road the limits of the park of Blue Beard."

"I understand--this subterranean passage will conduct us to the bottom

of the abyss above which towers Devil's Cliff?"

"Exactly, colonel; it is as if we were at the bottom of a moat, one of

whose sides is perpendicular and the other sloping. When I say sloping,

that is simply a figure of speech, for in order to reach the summit of

the peak, one must more than once hang suspended by some vine between

heaven and earth. But when there, we find ourselves at the edge of the

park of Devil's Cliff--once there, we can hide ourselves in some place

and wait our opportunity----"

"And this opportunity is not far distant; come, come, you, who know so

much, must, at one time, have been in the service of Blue Beard!"

"I told you, colonel, I came from the coast with her and her first

husband; at the end of three months, they sent me back; then I left for

San Domingo. I have heard no further word of them."

"And she--would you know her well?"

"Yes, as to her height and general air, but not her face; for we reached

the coast at night, and once on shore she was carried in a litter to

Devil's Cliff. When by chance she walked in the daytime, she wore a

mask. Some say she is as beautiful as an angel; others, that she is ugly

as a monster. I cannot say which are in the right, for neither I nor my

mates ever put foot in the interior of the mansion. Those who perform

the special attendance and service are mulattresses as mute as fish."

"And he?"

"He is handsome, tall and slender, about thirty-six years old, brown,

with black hair and mustache, and has an aquiline nose."

"It is certainly he," said the colonel, when John had thus described

him. "It is thus that he was always described; and it is not positively

known that he is dead?"

"It is said he died on the voyage, but no one has ever really known."

"And no one doubts that he died?"

"Faith! no, colonel, because Blue Beard has been married twice since

then."

"And have you seen these two husbands?"

"No, colonel, for when I arrived from San Domingo, only eight days

since, you engaged me for this expedition, knowing that I could serve

you. You have promised me fifty guineas if I will introduce you into

this island, in spite of the French cruisers, which, since the war, do

not allow any vessels to approach the coast, which is accessible, be it

understood. Our canoe, however, was not interfered with, for, thanks to

the sharp rocks of Cabesterre, no one could conceive that we could land

on this coast of the island, and they have not watched that."

"And then, beside, no one would suspect our presence on the island,

though, according to what you tell me, Blue Beard has a kind of police

who keep her informed of the arrival of all strangers."

"At least, colonel, they say that the men who are so employed, at St.

Pierre and Fort Royal, were on the watch and that a stranger who landed

at Martinique did not escape their vigilance."

"All that is for the best; you shall have your fifty guineas. But, once

more, you are very sure about this subterranean passage?"

"Be easy as to that, colonel; I have passed through it, I tell you, with

a negro who was a pearl-fisher, and he it was who first took me through

it."

"But you were obliged to climb the precipice in order to reach the park

of Devil's Cliff?"

"Doubtless, colonel; since it was from curiosity to see this park, in

which no one was permitted to enter, that I accepted the pearl-fisher's

offer; being of the household, I knew Blue Beard and her husband were

absent; I was then sure that I could pass through the garden after

climbing the precipice; that was what we did, not without the risk of

breaking our necks, however, a thousand times, but what would you have?

I was dying with curiosity to see the interior of this place, which had

been forbidden. It was a perfect paradise. What was most amusing was the

surprise of the mulattress who guarded the entrance; when she saw us,

myself and the negro, she could not conceive how we had been able to

enter. We told her we had escaped her notice. She believed us; she put

us out as quickly as possible, and she committed suicide rather than be

punished by her employers."

After a few minutes' silence the colonel said abruptly, "This is not

all; now there is no retreat, I must tell you everything."

"What then, colonel?"

"Once introduced into Devil's Cliff, we have a man to surprise and

overcome; whatever he does to defend himself, a hair of his head must

not be harmed, at least, unless he absolutely forces us to protect our

lives; then," continued the colonel, with a sinister smile, "then two

hundred guineas for you, whether we succeed or not."

"A thousand devils! you have waited rather long to say this to me,

colonel. But, as the wine is drawn, it must be quaffed."

"Come, I did not deceive myself, you are a brave man."

"Ah, as to that, is the man whom you seek also strong and brave?"

"Well," said Rutler, after some minutes of reflection, "consider a

little the first husband of the widow--a man tall and slender."

"The devil! he was slender, 'tis true; a rod of steel is, also, slender,

but that does not prevent its being furiously strong. See here, colonel,

that man was made of iron. He was so strong that I have seen him take an

insolent negro by the middle and throw him ten feet from him, as if he

were an infant, though the black was larger and more robust than you.

So, colonel, if the man you seek resembles that one, we would be unwise

to bait him--as you say----"

"Less than you believe. I will explain to you----"

"And then," continued John, "if by chance the filibuster, the buccanneer

or the cannibal who they say frequently visit the widow, should also be

there, it would become somewhat embarrassing."

"Hear me; after what you have told me is there at the end of the park a

tree where one could hide?"

"Yes, colonel."

"With the exception of the buccaneer, the filibuster or the cannibal no

one enters the private habitation of Blue Beard?"

"No one colonel except the mulattresses who wait upon her."

"And except also the man whom I seek, be it remembered; I have my

reasons for believing we shall find him there."

"Well, colonel?"

"Then nothing is simpler; we will hide ourselves in the thickest tree

until our man comes to our side."

"That cannot fail to occur colonel because the park is not large and

when one walks in it he is forced to pass near a marble basin not very

far from the place where we shall be hidden."

"If our man does not take a walk after night comes, we will wait until

he has gone to bed, and we will surprise him there."

"This will be easy, colonel, unless he calls one of Blue Beard's

comforters to his succor."

"Be easy about that; for with your assistance I can place my hand on him

and then though he were surrounded by a hundred men armed to the teeth

he is mine; I have a sure means of obliging him to obey me; this

concerns me. All that I require of you is to conduct me into the ambush

from which I can spring upon him suddenly."

"This shall be done, colonel."

"Then let us be going," said Rutler, rising from the ground.

"At your orders, colonel; but instead of walking, we must creep. But let

us see," continued John, bending down, "if we can perceive the daylight.

Yes, it is there--but how distant it seems. Speaking of that, colonel,

if, since I came by this road, it should have been stopped up by a

landslide, we should cut, in such a case, a sorry figure! condemned to

remain here, and to die of hunger or to eat each other! Impossible to

get out by the gulf, seeing that one cannot remount a sheet of water as

a trout ascends a cascade."

"That is true," said Rutler, "you appal me; happily, there is no

likelihood of this. You have the sack?"

"Yes, colonel; the straps are strong and the skin impervious. We shall

find our knives, our pistols and our cartridges in it as dry as though

they came from an armory."

"Then, John, let us be starting; go ahead," said the colonel. "We must

have time to dry our clothes."

"That will not take long, colonel; once at the foot of the precipice we

shall be as in an oven; the sun shines full upon it."

John lay down on his face and commenced to glide into the passage, so

small that he could scarcely enter. The darkness was profound; in the

distance only, one could distinguish a faint light. The colonel

followed, dragging himself over a damp and dirty soil.

For some time the two Englishmen advanced in this manner, crawling on

their knees, on their hands, and on their stomachs, in total darkness.

All at once John paused suddenly and cried in a frightened voice,

"Colonel!"

"What is it?"

"Do you not notice a strong odor?"

"Yes, a fetid odor."

"Do not move; it is the serpent--'Fer de lance'--we are lost."

"A serpent!" exclaimed the colonel, with horror.

"We are dead. I dare not advance; the odor is growing stronger and

stronger," murmured John.

"Be quiet--listen."

In mortal terror the two men held their breath. All at once at some

little distance they heard a continuous, rapid sound, as if something

was beating the earth with a flail. The nauseating and penetrating odor

which exhales from these large serpents became stronger and stronger.

"The serpent is furious; it is his tail which is beating the earth

thus," said John in a feeble voice. "Colonel, let us commend our souls

to God!"

"Let us cry out and terrify the serpent," said Rutler.

"No, no, it would but precipitate itself at once upon us," replied John.

The two men remained for some moments a prey to the most horrible

suspense. They could neither retreat nor change their position. Their

chests rested upon the earth; their backs touched the rocks. They dared

not make a movement of recoil for fear of drawing the reptile in pursuit

of them. The air, more and more impregnated by the infectious odor of

the serpent, became suffocating.

"Can you not find a stone at hand in order to throw at it," said the

colonel in a low tone.

Hardly had he said these words when John uttered the most piercing cries

and struggled violently, exclaiming, "Help! help! I die!"

Paralyzed with terror, Rutler strove to turn about, but he struck

himself violently on the head against the side of the passage. Then,

retreating as rapidly as he could with the assistance of his knees and

hands, he sought flight by backing out, while John, in extremity with

the serpent, made the most terrible and pitiful cries of terror and

suffering. All at once these cries became fainter and inarticulate, as

if the sailor was strangling. In fact, the enraged serpent, after

having, in the obscurity, stung John in the hand, the throat and face,

attempted to introduce its flat and lance-like head into the open mouth

of the unfortunate man, and stung his lips and tongue; but this last

assault finished the sailor.

The serpent, having satisfied his rage, withdrew his horrible fangs and

took to flight. The colonel felt a damp, icy body touch his cheek; he

remained motionless. The serpent glided rapidly along the side of the

subterranean passage and escaped.

The danger past, the colonel remained some moments petrified with

terror; he heard the last struggle of John; his agony was short. Rutler

heard him make several convulsive shudders and that was all. His

companion was dead. Then Rutler advanced and seized the sailor's leg.

The leg was already cold and stiff; for the venom of the serpent works

rapidly.

A new cause for fear assailed the colonel. The serpent, not finding an

egress in the cavern, might return the same way it had gone. Rutler

seemed already to hear a slight noise behind him. He could not proceed

in advance, because the body of the sailor completely blocked the

passage; flight by the rear was only to expose himself to an encounter

with the serpent. In his terror the colonel seized the corpse by the two

legs, to the end that he might drag it to the entrance of the

subterranean passage and thus clear the only outlet to the cavern. His

efforts were in vain. Whether his strength was paralyzed, he being in

such a cramped position, or whether the poison had already distended the

body, Rutler could not extricate it.

Not wishing to think that this only and last chance for salvation was

taken from him, he found a means of detaching his belt and of fastening

it to the feet of the dead man; he took it between his teeth, and,

aiding himself by his two hands, pulled with all the energy of despair.

He could scarcely cause even the slightest movement of the corpse. His

terror increased; he sought his knife, in the mad idea of cutting up the

body of the sailor. He saw soon the uselessness of this attempt.

The pistols and ammunition of the colonel were in the sack of skin swung

over the shoulders of the dead man. He set himself to work to remove the

sack from his companion; he did so after great difficulty. He then set

himself anew to retreat to the entrance of the passage.

Once again in the cavern he felt faint, but the air revived him; he

plunged his head into the cold water and seated himself on the sand. He

had almost forgotten the serpent. A long hiss caused him to raise his

head; he saw the reptile balancing itself a few paces above him, half

coiled up on the rooks which formed the roof of the cavern.

The colonel recovered his coolness at the sight of this danger;

remaining almost immovable, and using his hands only, he unfastened his

pouch and drew from it a pistol and cocked it. Happily the charge and

priming were intact.

At the moment that the serpent, irritated by the movement of Rutler,

precipitated itself upon him, the latter aimed and fired. The serpent

fell at his feet with his head crushed. It was of a blue-black, spotted

with yellow, and some eight or nine feet in length.

Delivered from this enemy, and encouraged by his success the colonel

made a final effort to clear out the only path by which he could pass.

He glided anew into the passage, but, in spite of his strength, his

efforts were in vain--he could not move the corpse of the sailor.

Returning to the cave, he examined it in every direction but could find

no outlet. He could not hope for help outside; his shouts could not be

heard. At this terrible thought his eyes fell upon the serpent. Here was

a momentary resource; he knew that sometimes the famished negroes ate

this flesh, which, though repulsive, was not poisonous.

Night came, and he found himself in profound darkness. The waves

murmured and broke at the entrance of the cave; the waterspout

precipitated itself with a crash into the lower basin.

A new fear took possession of Rutler. He knew that the serpents went in

pairs and often rejoined each other at night; drawn by the tracks, the

male or female of the reptile which he had killed would come in search

of its mate.

The colonel's vigil became frightful. The slightest sound made him

tremble, in spite of his courageous nature; he asked himself whether, in

case he came through this horrible situation by a miracle, he should

continue the enterprise he had commenced. At first he believed that he

saw, in this adventure, a warning from heaven; then he accused himself

of cowardice, and attributed his mad fears to the feeble condition in

which he found himself.

Leaving the colonel in this difficult strait, we will transport our

reader to Devil's Cliff.

CHAPTER VIII.

DEVIL'S CLIFF.

The moon, brilliant and pure, shed a light almost as strong as the

European sun, and enabled one to distinguish perfectly the top of a very

high rock, and surrounded by woods on all sides of a dwelling built of

brick, and of peculiar architecture.

One could reach it only by a narrow path, forming a spiral around this

species of cone. The path was bounded on one side by a mass of

perpendicular granite; on the other by a precipice of which in the broad

daylight one could not discover the bottom.

This dangerous road terminated in a platform crossed by a brick wall, of

great thickness and edged with spikes.

Back of this species of glacis arose the walls surrounding the dwelling,

into which one entered by a very low oak door. This door communicated

with a large, square court, occupied by the outbuildings and other

buildings. This court passed, one discovered a vaulted passageway

leading to the sanctuary; that is to say, to the pavilion occupied by

Blue Beard. None of the blacks or mulattoes who formed the large force

of servants of the house had ever passed the limits of this passageway.

The serving of Blue Beard was done through the intermediary of a number

of mulattresses, who alone communicated with their mistress.

The house was built on a slope opposite the one by which access was had

from the cliff. This slope, much less steep, and laid out in a number of

natural terraces, was composed of five or six immense steps which, on

all sides, commanded the precipice.

By a phenomenon frequent in these volcanic islands, a pond of about two

acres' circumference covered almost all the length of one of the upper

terraces. Its waters were limpid and pure. Blue Beard's residence was

separated from this small lake by a narrow path of smooth sand, shining

like silver. This house was of one story. At the first glance it seems

to be constructed entirely of trees from which the bark had been

removed. Its bamboo roof was steeply inclined and overlapped by some

five or six feet the outer wall, which rested upon the trunks of palm

trees driven into the ground, and formed a kind of gallery around the

house.

A little above the level of the lake, in gentle declivity, was a lawn of

turf as fresh and green as that of the most beautiful English fields;

this was a rare thing at the Antilles, and was due to underground

irrigation which flowed from the lake and gave to this park a delightful

freshness. From this lawn, ornamented by baskets of tropical flowers,

opened a garden composed of large variegated shrubs, the slope of the

ground being such that one did not see their trunks, but only their

enameled tops of the freshest color; then, beyond these trees, on a

terrace lower still, was a large orange and citron grove covered with

fruit and flowers. In the daytime, seen thus from above, one would have

said it was a carpet of perfumed snow strewn with golden balls. At the

extreme horizon the slender stems of the banana and cocoanut trees,

formed a splendid retreat and overlooked the precipice at the bottom of

which was the subterranean passage of which we have spoken, and in which

Colonel Rutler was then imprisoned.

Meantime, let us enter one of the most remote portions of this mansion.

There we will find a young woman of from twenty to twenty-three years;

but her features are so infantile, her figure is so tiny, her freshness

so youthful, she would easily pass for sixteen. Robed in a muslin gown

with flowing sleeves, she is reclining on a sofa covered with Indian

silk, brown in color, embroidered with golden flowers; she leans her

white forehead on one hand, half-hidden by a wilderness of loose curls

of reddish blond tint, for the young woman's hair is dressed _a la

Titus_, a profusion of silky curls falls on her neck, her snowy

shoulders, and frames her charming little face, rounded, firm and rosy

as that of a child.

A large book, bound in red morocco, lies at the side of the divan on

which she is stretched, and is open before her. The young woman reads

attentively, by the light of three perfumed candles, which rest in a

little silver gilt candelabra, enriched by exquisite chasing.

The eyelashes of the pretty reader are so long that they threw a slight

shadow on her cheeks, where are to be seen two charming dimples. Her

nose is of a rare delicacy; her mouth curved and crimson, and her

beautiful blue eyes large and expressive; her whole face presents a

ravishing expression of innocence and candor. From the edge of her

muslin gown appear two feet like Cinderella's, shod in white silk hose

and Moorish slippers of cherry satin embroidered with silver, which one

could hold in the palm of one's hand. The attitude of this young woman

leaves to the imagination an exquisite whole, in spite of her slight

figure. Thanks to the width of her sleeve, which has fallen back, one

can admire the ravishing outline of a rounded arm, polished like ivory,

and having at the elbow a charming dimple. Her hand which turns the

leaves of her book is worthy of such an arm; the nails, very long and of

the transparency of agate. The tips of the fingers shade to a deep rose

color, such as is imparted by the henna of the Orientals.

The figure of this charming creature recalls the ideal Psyche, the

lovely realization of a beauty so fleeting that it passes with the first

flower of youth. Certain organizations retains their first youth a long

time, and as we have said, in spite of her twenty-three years, Blue

Beard is of the number of these privileged persons.

For this is Blue Beard. We will no longer hide the name of the inmate of

Devil's Cliff from our readers, but will say she is called Angela.

Unfortunately, this celestial name, this candid face, contrasts

singularly with the diabolical reputation which this widow of three

husbands possesses; and who it is said has as many consolers as she has

had husbands. The course of this story will enable us to condemn or

vindicate Blue Beard.

At a slight sound which she hears in the adjoining room, Angela lifts

her head suddenly, like a gazelle on the alert, and seats herself on the

edge of the sofa, throwing back her locks by a graceful movement.

At the moment she rises, exclaiming, "It it he!" a man raises the

_portiere_ of the room. Not sooner does the iron fly to the magnet than

does Angela to the newcomer. She throws herself into his arms, and

twining them about him in a kind of tender fury, covered him with

caresses and passionate kisses, and joyfully cries, "My tender

friend--my dear James!"

This first ebullition over, the newcomer takes Angela into his arms as

if she were a child, and carries his precious burden over to the sofa.

Then Angela, seated on his knee, takes one of his hands in hers, passes

her beautiful arm about his neck, draws his head to her, and looked at

him with eager delight.

Alas! were the scandal-mongers right in suspecting Blue Beard's

morality?

The man whom she receives with such familiar ardor is of the copper

color of a mulatto; he is tall and supple, active and robust; his noble

and fine features show nothing of the negro type; a profusion of jet

black curls frame his forehead; his eyes are large and of velvety

blackness; under his thin lips, red and moist, shine the most

beautifully enameled teeth. This beauty, at once charming and manly,

this appearance of strength and elegance, resembles the noble

proportions of an Indian Bacchus or of an Antinous.

The mulatto's costume is such as certain filibusters then generally

adopt when on shore. He wears a waistcoat of rich maroon velvet, with

buttons of filigree gold; large Flemish boots of like material and

ornamented with the same style of button, which extend the length of the

thigh, being met by a belt of orange silk, in which is stuck a poignard

richly chased; and, finally, long leggings of white kid embroidered in

many colored silks after the Mexican style, show a leg of the finest

outline.

Nothing could be more striking or pretty than the contrast between James

and Angela thus grouped. On the one hand, blond tresses, alabaster

tints, rosy cheeks, infantile grace and elegance; on the other, the

bronze tint, ebony locks, and manner at once assured and manly.

Angela's white dress is outlined on the somber colors of James'

vestments; and thus the fine and supple figure of Blue Beard is

accentuated.

Fixing her great blue eyes on the black eyes of the mulatto, the young

woman amuses herself by turning back the embroidered collar of James'

shirt, in order to admire the better his sunburned neck, which in color

and shape rivals the most beautiful Florentine bronze.

After prolonging this unconventional performance, Angela gives the

mulatto a noisy kiss under his ear, takes his head between her two

hands, mischievously rumples up his black locks, gives him a little blow

on the cheek, and says, "That is how I love you, Monsieur Hurricane."

A slight sound is heard behind the tapestry forming the _portiere_, and

Angela calls, "Is it you, Mirette? what do you wish?"

"Madame, I am coming with the flowers and will arrange them in the

stand."

"She hears us!" said Angela, making a mysterious signal to the mulatto;

then she amuses herself laughing madly at and rumpling her lover's hair.

He takes her little caprices with complaisance, and contemplates her

with love. Then he says, smilingly,

"Child! because you look only sixteen, you think everything is permitted

you." Then he adds in a tone of gentle raillery, "and who would think,

seeing this little rosy, ingenuous face that I hold on my knees the most

notable scamp of the Antilles?"

"And who would think that this man, who speaks in so sweet a voice, is

the ferocious Captain Hurricane, the terror of England and Spain?" cried

Angela, breaking into a laugh. The mulatto and the widow express

themselves in the purest French, and without the slightest foreign

accent.

"What matters it," she cries, smilingly, "it is not _I_ whom they call

Blue Beard."

At these words which appear to call up sad memories, the little widow,

with a coquettish pout, gave a hardly perceptible tap to the end of

Captain Hurricane's nose, indicating by a movement of her hand that in

the neighboring room one can hear him, and says with a mischievous air,

"That will teach you to speak of trespassing."

"Fie! the monster!" says the captain, breaking into a laugh; "and what

of remorse, then, madame?"

"Give me a kiss of remorse, then, and I shall----"

"May Lucifer assist me! It takes a woman to be chief of criminals! Ah,

my dear, you are well named; you make me tremble! Suppose we have

supper."

Angela touches a bell. The young mulattress who had overheard the above

conversation enters. She wears a dress of white linen with bright

stripes, and has silver rings on arms and ankles.

"Mirette, have you arranged the flowers," said Blue Beard.

"Yes, madame."

"You have been listening?"

"No, madame."

"However, it does not matter; when I speak it is that I may be heard.

Make ready the supper, Mirette."

Then, addressing herself to the captain, "What wine do you prefer?"

"Sherry, but let it be iced; this is a notion of mine."

Mirette goes out for a moment, and shortly reappears and begins to

prepare the table.

"By the way, I forgot to tell you of a great event," says Blue Beard's

companion.

"What then? has one of my deceased husbands returned to life?"

"Faith, almost."

"Now? Ah, Master James, Master James, no more of your wicked

pleasantries," cries Angela, with a frightened air.

"No, it is not a dead man, a ghost, but a very living pretender who

demands your hand in marriage."

"He wishes to marry me?"

"He wishes to marry you."

"Oh, the unhappy wretch! is he then weary of life?" cried Angela,

laughing.

Mirette, at these words, makes the sign of the cross while

superintending the spreading of the board by two other mulattresses who

are carrying bottles of Bohemian glass, engraved with golden arabesques,

and plates of the most magnificent Japanese porcelain.

Blue Beard continues, "This lover of mine is not a countryman, then?"

"By no means! for in spite of your wealth, my dear, I defy you to find a

_fourth_ husband, thanks to your diabolical reputation."

"Where does he come from, this would-be husband, my dear James?"

"From France."

"France! he comes from France to espouse me, the deuce!"

"Angela, you know that I do not like to hear you swear," says the

mulatto, with pretended seriousness.

"Pardon, Captain Hurricane," replies the young woman, dropping her eyes

with a hypocritical air. "I only meant to signify that I find your news

very astonishing. It appears that my reputation has reached Europe."

"Do not be so vain, my dear. It was on board the Unicorn that this

worthy paladin heard you spoken of, and by the mere mention of your

riches he has become enamored, yes, madly enamored of you. This, I

trust, will take down your pride."

"The impertinent fellow! and who is this man, James?"

"The Chevalier de Croustillac."

"Who?"

"The Chevalier de Croustillac."

"This is the name of the pretender to my hand?" And Angela breaks into a

merry peal of laughter which nothing can arrest, and the mulatto finally

joins in her merriment.

The two have scarcely subsided when Mirette enters preceded by two other

mulattresses who carry a table sumptuously set out in gilded dishes. The

two slaves place the table near the divan; the captain arises to take a

chair, while Angela, kneeling on the edge of the sofa, uncovers the

dishes one after another, and examines the table with the air of an

epicurean kitten.

"Are you hungry, James? As for me, I am famished," says Angela. And as

if to prove without doubt this assertion, she opens her coral lips and

shows two rows of ravishing little pearly teeth which she clinches

twice.

"Angela, my dear, you were certainly badly brought up," said the

captain, helping her to a portion of dorado, served with ham and an

appetizing sauce.

"Captain Hurricane, if I receive you at my table, it is not that you may

scold," said Angela, making an almost imperceptible grimace to the

mulattress. Then she continues, attacking her fish bravely, and pecking

at her bread like a bird, "If he scolds me, Mirette, I will not receive

him again?"

"No, mistress," said Mirette.

"And I will give his place to Rend-your-soul, the buccaneer?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Or to Youmaeale, the cannibal?"

"Yes, mistress."

"You hear that, sir?" said Angela.

"Never mind, my dear, I am not jealous, you know that; beauty is as the

sun, it shines for all the world."

"Because you are not jealous, then, I will pardon you. Help yourself to

what is before you. What is that, Mirette?"

"Madame, the roe of fish fried in pigeon's fat."

"Which is not equal to the fat of quail," says the captain, "but it must

have the juice of a lemon while it is warm."

"See what a glutton! Ah! but my future spouse, I had forgotten him. Pour

me some wine, Mirette."

The filibuster, corsair as he is, forestalls the mulattress and pours

out some iced sherry for Angela.

"It must be that I love you, to drink this, I who prefer the wines of

France." And Blue Beard drinks resolutely three drops of the sherry,

which puts fresh life into her lips and blue eyes and tinged her cheeks

a carmine hue.

"But to return to my future spouse. How is he? Is he agreeable? Is he

worthy to join the others?"

Mirette, in spite of her passive submission, cannot prevent a tremor in

hearing her mistress speak thus, although the poor slave must be

accustomed to these atrocious pleasantries, and doubtless many greater

enormities.

"What ails you, Mirette?"

"Nothing, mistress."

"If you are unwell----"

"No, mistress."

"You would be sorry to see me marry again? I shall not do so for a long

time. Go, child." Then, addressing Captain Hurricane, "And the Chevalier

de--de--what did you say was his name?"

"Chevalier de Croustillac."

"Have you seen him?"

"No; but knowing his plans and that he intends, at all hazards, and in

spite of the efforts of the good Father Griffen, to come here, I begged

Youmaeale, the cannibal," says the captain, looking at Angela in a

singular way, "to address a little warning in order to induce him to

renounce his projects."

"And you did this without letting me know, sir? What if I do not wish to

rebuff him, this pretender; for, after all, this Croustillac is a

Gascon, and I never married a Gascon."

"Oh, he is the most famous Gascon that has ever gasconaded on the earth;

with that, a figure indescribable and assurance unbounded; and as to the

rest, sufficient courage."

"And Youmaeale's warning?"

"Has accomplished nothing. It glided off the undaunted soul of this man

as a ball from the scales of a crocodile; he started out this morning

bravely, at break of day, to traverse the forest, with his pink silk

hose, his rapier at his side, and a staff to frighten the serpents. He

is still there, without doubt, at this hour, for the road to Devil's

Cliff is not known to all the world."

"James, I have an idea!" cries the widow joyfully; "let him come here

and amuse us; that we may torment him. So, he is in love with my riches

and not myself! So, he would espouse me, this fine knight errant. We

will see as to that! Well? You do not laugh at my idea, James. What ails

you? But moreover, you know, sir, that I will not be thwarted; I will

make a feast for this Gascon. If he is not devoured by the wildcats or

killed by the serpents I will have him here to-morrow. You go to sea

to-morrow; tell the cannibal and Rend-your-soul to bring him to me."

The captain, instead of joining in the gayety of Blue Beard, according

to his custom, is serious, pensive, and seems to reflect deeply.

"James! James! do you not hear me?" cries Angela, impatiently, tapping

her foot. "I want this Gascon. I want him."

The mulatto makes no reply; he draws with the forefinger of his right

hand a circle about his throat, and looks significantly at the young

woman. She understands this mysterious sign; her face all at once

expresses both sorrow and distress; she rises suddenly, runs to the

mulatto, falls on her knees before him and cries in a touching voice,

"You are right. My God! you are right! I am insane to entertain such a

thought. I understand you."

"Rise, Angela, calm yourself," says the mulatto. "I do not know if this

man is to be feared, but he is a stranger, he may come from England or

France, and----"

"I tell you I was mad! that I was jesting, my dear James! I forgot that

which I never ought to forget--it is frightful."

The beautiful eyes of the young woman fill with tears; she bends her

head, and takes the hand of the mulatto, over which she weeps silently

for some minutes.

Hurricane kisses tenderly the forehead and tresses of Angela, and says

gently, "I never wish to recall these cruel memories. I should have said

nothing to you, assured myself that there is no danger in bringing this

imbecile to you as a plaything, and then----"

"James, my friend," cries Angela sadly, interrupting the mulatto, "my

love, what do you think then? for a childish caprice that I would expose

you, you whom I love most dearly in the world?"

"There! there! be calm," replies the mulatto, lifting her up and seating

her near him; "do not be frightened; Father Griffen has informed himself

as to the Gascon, he is only ridiculous. In order to be more certain, I

will go to-morrow and speak with him at Macouba, and then I will tell

Rend-your-soul, who is fortunately hunting on the coast, to discover

this poor devil in the forest, where he has, no doubt, lost himself. If

he is dangerous," says the mulatto, making a sign to Angela (for the

slaves were still present awaiting the conclusion of supper), "the

buccaneer will relieve us of him and cure him of the desire to know you;

if not, as you never have any amusement here, he shall bring him to

you."

"No, no, I do not wish it," says Angela. "All the thoughts which come to

me, now are of mortal sadness--my disquietude returns."

Angela, seeing that the mulatto would not eat any more, arose; the

filibuster imitated her, and says, "Reassure yourself, my Angela, there

is nothing to fear. Come into the garden, the night is fine, the moon

magnificent. Tell Mirette to bring my lute; in order to make you forget

these painful thoughts I will sing you the Scotch ballads you love so."

So saying, the mulatto passes one arm around the figure of Angela, and

clasping her thus, he descends the few steps leading to the garden. On

leaving the apartment Blue Beard says to her slave, "Mirette, bring the

lute into the garden, light the alabaster lamp in my bed-chamber. You

can go, I shall not need you again to-night. Do not forget to say to

Cora and to the other mulattresses that to-morrow begins their service."

Then she disappears, leaning on the arm of the mulatto. This last order

of Angela was occasioned by a habit she has had, since her last

widowhood, of alternating every three days the service of her women.

Mirette carries a very beautiful ebony lute incrusted with gold and

mother of pearl, into the garden. After an interval of some moments, the

filibuster's voice is heard singing with infinite grace and pathos the

Scotch ballads which the chief of royalist clans always sang in

preference during the protectorate of Cromwell. The voice of the mulatto

is at once sweet, vibrant and melancholy.

Mirette and the two slaves listen with delight during some moments. At

the last lines, the voice of the filibuster becomes moved, tears seem to

mingle in it--then the songs cease.

Mirette enters Blue Beard's chamber in order to light the alabaster

lamp, which throws a soft and veiled light on the surrounding objects.

This room is splendidly furnished in Indian stuff with white ground

embroidered with flowers; a mosquito net of muslin, fine as a spider's

web, envelopes an immense bed of gilded wood with a headboard of

plate-glass, which appears thus in a slight mist.

After executing the orders of her mistress, Mirette withdraws

discreetly, and says to the two slaves with a malicious smile, "Mirette

lights the lamp for the captain, Cora for the buccanneer, and Noun for

the Caribbean."

The two slaves nod their heads with an intelligent air, and the three go

out, after carefully closing and locking the door which leads to the

outbuilding of this special domain of Blue Beard.

CHAPTER IX.

NIGHT.

We had left the chevalier when he had penetrated into the forest, which

was alive with the cries of all the animals which peopled it. For a

moment stunned by the tumult, the Gascon bravely pursued his course,

turning his steps ever toward the north, at least toward what he

believed to be so, thanks to his astronomical knowledge. As the priest

had foretold, he could not find any path through the forest; decayed

vegetation, tall shrubs, vines, trunks of trees, an inextricable

undergrowth, covered the ground; the trees were so thick that the air,

light and sun, penetrated with difficulty through this veil of foliage,

among which exhaled a warm moisture almost suffocating produced by the

fermentation of vegetable matter which to a great extent thickly covered

the earth.

The heavy perfume of tropical flowers so saturated this suffocating

atmosphere that the chevalier experienced a kind of intoxication, of

faintness. He walked with a slower step, he felt his head become heavy,

exterior objects became indifferent to him. He no longer admired the

leafy colonades stretching out as far as the eye could see, into the

shadows of the forest. He cast a careless glance at the sparkling and

varied plumage of the parrots, birds of paradise and other birds

joyfully crying out and pursuing the golden-winged insects or snapping

in their beaks the aromatic woods of the Indies. The gambols of the

monkeys, balancing themselves on the garlands of passion vines, or

springing from tree to tree, did not even bring a smile to his lips.

Completely absorbed, he had strength only to contemplate the end of his

perilous journey. He thought only of Blue Beard and her treasures.

After some hours' walk, he began to observe that his silk stockings were

inconvenient for traversing a forest. A large branch of thorny wood had

made a great hole in his coat; his breeches were not irreproachable by

any means; and more than once, feeling his long sword embarrass him by

catching in some plants which obstructed his path, he involuntarily

turned to chastise the importunate object which took the liberty of

interfering with his progress.

Either by chance, or thanks to the frequent use of his staff, with which

he beat the bushes continually, the chevalier had the good fortune not

to encounter any serpents. Toward noon, worried and fatigued, he paused

in order to pick some bananas, and climbed a tree in order to breakfast

at his ease. To his joy and surprise he found that the leaves of this

tree, rolled into cornucopias, held clear water, fresh and delicious to

the taste; the chevalier drank several of those, put his remaining

bananas into his pocket, and continued his journey.

According to his calculation, he must have traveled nearly four leagues,

and could not be very far from Devil's Cliff. Unhappily the chevalier's

calculation was not exact, at least, as to the direction in which he

believed himself to have gone; for he had estimated the distance

traversed correctly enough, but he was, at midday, a little further from

Devil's Cliff than he had been when he entered the forest. In order not

to lose sight of the sun (which he could with difficulty discern through

the treetops), he had necessarily been obliged to lift his eyes

frequently to the heavens. Now, the road was almost impenetrable, and he

was also obliged to be on the watch for serpents; thus, divided between

the sky and the earth, the attention of the chevalier went somewhat

astray. However, as it was impossible to believe that he could a second

time be deceived in his calculations, he took fresh courage, certain of

reaching the end of his journey.

About three o'clock in the afternoon he commenced to suspect that

Devil's Cliff receded in proportion to his approach. Croustillac became

harassed; but the fear of passing the night in the forest spurred him

on; by means of walking forward steadily he finally reached a kind of

indentation between two large rocks. The chevalier drew his breath,

expanding his lungs.

"Faith!" cried he, removing his hat and fanning himself with it, "I am

then at Devil's Cliff. I seem to recognize it, though I have never seen

it. I cannot, however, lose myself. I have love for a compass; one can

follow this in the antipodes without deviating a hair's breadth. It is

very simple; my heart turns toward wealth and beauty, as the needle to

the pole! for if Blue Beard is rich, she must be beautiful; and,

further, a woman who can rid herself so quickly of three husbands must

love change. I shall prove a new fruit to her--and what a fruit! After

all, the three men who are dead got what they deserved, because they

were in my path. What assures me of the physique of Blue Beard is that

only a very pretty woman could permit herself such irregularities, such

methods--a little offhand to be sure--of breaking the conjugal chain.

Zounds! I shall see her, please her, seduce her. Poor woman! She does

not dream that her conqueror is at hand! If--if--I wager that her little

heart beats strongly this very moment. She feels my approach, she

divines it, her presentiment does not deceive her. She will be

overcome--happiness will arrive on the wings of love!"

Thus saying, the chevalier threw a glance on his toilet. It did not

escape his notice that it was slightly disordered; his stockings,

originally purple, then pale pink, had become striped, zebra-fashion,

with a number of green rays, since his journey in the forest; his coat

was ornamented with various holes fancifully arranged, but the Gascon

made this reflection aloud, if not very modest, at least very consoling:

"Faith! Venus arose from the sea without any covering; Truth had no more

on when she emerged from the well; and if beauty and truth appeared

without a veil, I see not why--love--Beside, Blue Beard must be a woman

who will understand me!"

Completely reassured, the chevalier hastened his steps, climbed the face

of the rocks, and found himself in an inclosure of the forest, even more

somber and impenetrable than that which he had quitted. Others would

have lost courage. Croustillac said to himself, on the contrary "Zounds!

this is very clever. Hiding her habitation in the most dense forest is a

woman's idea. I am sure the more I push on into these thickets the

nearer I approach the house. I consider I have already arrived. Blue

Beard, Blue Beard, finally I behold thee."

The chevalier cherished this precious illusion while the daylight

lasted, which was not long; there is little twilight in the tropics.

Soon the chevalier saw, with astonishment, the summits of the trees

little by little obscure themselves, and assume a fantastic appearance

in the great mass of the forest. For some moments there remained a

half-shade, here and there lighted by the bright reflection of the sun,

which seemed as red as the fire of a furnace, for he was "making his

couch in the wind," as they say in the Antilles.

For a moment the vegetation, so brilliantly green, took on a purple

tint; the chevalier believed that nature was painted a living red, what

was perceived being a mingling with the tints of the heavens. "Zounds!"

exclaimed the chevalier, "I did not deceive myself; I am near this

infernal place, this illumination proves it. Lucifer is without doubt

making a visit to Blue Beard, who, in order to receive him, is lighting

the furnaces of her kitchen."

Little by little these warm tints disappeared, they became pale red,

then violet, and were swallowed up in the amethyst of the evening skies.

As soon as the shadows wrapped the forest in their arms, the plaintive

cries of the jackals, the sinister hooting of the owls, proclaimed the

return of night. The sea breeze, which always rises after the setting of

the sun, passed like a great sigh over the tops of the trees; the leaves

shivered. The thousand nameless, vague and distant cries which one hears

only at night, began to resound from all quarters.

"Of a truth," said the chevalier, "this is a pretty figure to cut! To

think I am not a hundred steps, perhaps, from Devil's Cliff, and that I

am compelled to sleep under the stars!"

Croustillac, fearing the serpents, directed himself toward an enormous

mahogany tree which he had observed; by the aid of the vines which

enveloped this tree on all sides, he succeeded in reaching a kind of

fork, formed by two large branches; here he installed himself,

comfortably, placed his sword between his knees, and commenced a supper

of the bananas, which fortunately, he had kept in his pockets. He did

not experience any of the fears which would have assailed many men, even

the bravest, placed in such a critical situation. Beside, in extreme

cases the chevalier had all kinds of reasoning for his use; he said:

"Fate is implacable against me, it chooses well--it cannot

mistake--instead of addressing itself to some rascal; to some wretch,

what does it do? It bethinks itself of the Chevalier de Croustillac

thus: 'Here is my man--he is worthy of struggling with me.'"

In the situation in which he found himself the chevalier saw another

providential circumstance no less flattering to him. "My good fortune is

assured," he said: "the treasures of Blue Beard are mine; this is the

final trial to which the aforesaid Fate subjects me; it would be bad

grace in me to revolt. A brave man does not complain. I could not merit

the inestimable recompense which awaits me."

By means of these reflections the chevalier combated sleep with success;

he feared if he yielded to it he would fall from the tree; he ended by

being enchanted by the obstacles which he had surmounted in his course

to Blue Beard. She would know how to value his courage, he thought, and

be alive to his devotion. In this excess of chivalrous feeling, the

chevalier regretted even that he has not had a serious enemy to combat

and not to have had to struggle alone against pitfalls, thorns and the

trunks of trees. At this moment a strange cry drew the adventurer's

attention; he listened, and said, "What is that? One would think that

the cats were holding their Sabbath. I know, now, because of these cats,

that the house cannot be far distant." But Croustillac deceived himself.

These were not domestic cats but wildcats, and never were tigers

fiercer; they continued to make an infernal uproar. In order to quiet

them, the chevalier took his staff and struck on the tree. The wildcats,

instead of flying, approached him with furious and redoubled cries. For

a long time these woods had been infested by these animals, who were not

inferior to jaguars in size, strength and ferocity; they attacked and

devoured young kids, goats, and even young mules.

In order to explain the hostile assault of these carnivorous beasts

which surrounded the chevalier, who had been discovered by their

powerful sense of scent, we must return to the cavern in which Colonel

Rutler was immured. We know that the corpse of the sailor John, dead

from the sting of the serpent, completely obstructed the subterranean

passage by which Rutler could alone leave the cavern. The wildcats had

descended the precipice, scented the corpse of John, approached it first

timidly, then, emboldened, had devoured it. The colonel heard and knew

not what to think of these ferocious cries. At daybreak, thanks to the

gluttony of these animals, the obstacle which prevented Rutler from

leaving the cavern had entirely disappeared. There remained in the

subterranean passage only the bones of the sailor, and these the colonel

could easily remove.

After this horrible feast, the wildcats, fed but not appeased by this

new repast to them, felt a taste for human flesh; they abandoned the

foot of the precipice, regained the wood, scented the chevalier, and

their carnivorous ferocity was increased.

For some time fear withheld them, but, encouraged by the immobility of

Croustillac, one of the boldest and most famished slowly climbed the

tree, and the Gascon saw, all at once, near him two large, brilliant,

green eyes, which shone out of the midst of the obscurity. At the same

instant he felt a vigorous bite at the calf of his leg. He drew back his

leg abruptly, but the wildcat held on and fastened its claws in his

flesh, and gave a deep, furious growl which was the signal of attack.

The assailants climbed up from all sides and the chevalier saw about him

flaming eyes and felt himself bitten in many places at once.

This attack was so unexpected, the assailants were of such a singular

kind, that Croustillac, in spite of his courage, remained for a moment

stupefied; but the bites of the wildcats and, above all, his deep

indignation at having to combat with such ignoble enemies, aroused his

fury. He seized the most venturesome by the skin of his back, and in

spite of several blows from his claws, threw him heavily against the

trunk of the tree and broke his back. The cat gave some frightful cries.

The chevalier treated in like manner another of these creatures which

had leaped upon his back, and had undertaken to devour his cheek.

The band hesitated. Croustillac seized his sword, and using it as a

poignard, pierced several others, and thus put an end to this attack in

a novel manner, saying, "Zounds! to think Blue Beard does not know that

the brave Croustillac has been nearly devoured by wildcats, even as if

he were but a chicken hanging on a hook of a larder!"

The remainder of the night passed peacefully, the chevalier sleeping but

little. At daybreak he descended from his tree, and saw extended at his

feet five of his adversaries of the night. He hastened to quit the scene

of his exploits, at which he blushed, and, convinced that Devil's Cliff

could not be far off, he resumed his journey.

After having walked thus vainly, after his vigil, the gnawing of his

stomach, occasioned by a famished feeling, warned him that it was in the

neighborhood of noon. His delight may be imagined when the breeze bore

to him the delicious odor of roasted meat, so fine, so penetrating, and

so appetizing that the chevalier could not prevent himself from passing

his tongue across his lips. He redoubled his speed, not doubting, this

time, that he had arrived at the end of his troubles. However, he saw no

sign of habitation, and knew not how to reconcile this apparent solitude

with the exquisite odor which grew more and more tantalizing.

Unobserved himself, and without being heard, and walking rapidly, he

arrived at a kind of clearing, where he stopped a moment. The sight

which greeted his eyes was worthy his notice.

CHAPTER X.

A BUCCANEER.

In the midst of a close thicket appeared a cleared space forming a long

square; at one of its extremities was an ajoupa, a kind of hut made of

branches attached to the trunk of a palm tree, covered with long

polished leaves of balisier and of cachibou. Under this shelter, which

guaranteed protection from the rays of the sun to whoever might retire

therein, a man was stretched upon a bed of leaves; at his feet some

twenty dogs lay sleeping. These dogs would have been white and orange if

their original color had not disappeared, owing to the blood which

covered them. Their heads and breasts were completely stained by reason

of copious eating.

The chevalier could but indistinctly see the face of the man, half

hidden in his bed of fresh leaves. Not far from the hut was a covered

fire where, cooking slowly, after the fashion of buccaneers, was a

year-old boar. The stove or gridiron was formed by four forks driven

into the earth, on which were hung cross-pieces, and on these were laid

small poles, all of green wood.

The boar, still with its hide on, was stretched on its back, the belly

open and empty; strings attached to its four feet held it in this

position, which the heat would otherwise have disturbed.

This gridiron was raised above a hole four feet in length, three wide,

and of great depth, filled with broken charcoal; the boar cooked by the

equal heat of this steady and concentrated brazier. The cavity of the

animal was half filled with lemon juice and cut spices, which, combined

with the fat, which the heat caused to slowly ooze out, formed a kind of

interior sauce which smelled very appetizing.

This immense roast was nearly cooked; its skin began to frizzle and

crack; what was visible of the flesh through the gravy was red and

tempting. Finally, a dozen large yams, of yellow and savory pulp, were

cooking in the ashes, and exhaled a fine odor.

The chevalier could restrain himself no longer; carried away by his

appetite, he entered the inclosure, and in so doing broke down some

branches. One or two of the dogs awoke and ran at him with a menacing

air. The man, who was dozing, arose abruptly, looked about him with an

amazed air, while the entire pack of hounds manifested the most hostile

objection to the entrance of the chevalier, bristling and showing their

formidable teeth. Croustillac recalled the history of the assistant of

Rend-your-Soul being devoured by his dogs, but he was not intimidated;

he raised his staff with a menacing air, and said, "To heel, varlets; to

heel, varlets!"

This term, imported from the kennels of Europe, made no impression on

the dogs; they assumed an attitude so menacing that the chevalier struck

some blows at them with his staff. Their eyes burned with ferocity; they

would have precipitated themselves upon Croustillac had not the

buccaneer, coming out of the hut with a gun in his hand, cried in a

species of dialect, part negro, part French, "Who touches my dogs? Who

are you that come hither?"

The chavalier bravely put his hand on his sword and replied, "Your dogs

would devour me, my good fellow, and I foil them. They would employ

their teeth upon me as I would mine if I had before me a morsel of that

appetizing boar, for I am lost in the forest since yesterday morning and

have a most infernal hunger."

The buccaneer, instead of replying to the chevalier, remained stupefied

at the odd appearance of this man, who, staff in hand, had traversed a

forest in pink stockings and coat of taffeta and embroidered vest. On

his side, Croustillac, in spite of his hunger, contemplated the

buccaneer with no less curiosity. This hunter was of middle height, but

agile and vigorous; his only clothing, short drawers and a shirt which

was loose like a blouse. His clothing was so much stained with the

blood of bulls or boars which the buccaneers skin in order to sell the

hide and smoke the flesh (the principal branch of their traffic) that

the linen appeared tarred, it was so black and stiff. A belt of bull's

hide embellished with its hair confined the shirt about the buccaneer;

from this belt hung, on one side, a sheath of compartments, revealing

five or six knives of various lengths and divers shapes; from the other,

a pouch. The hunter's legs were bare to the knees; his shoes were

without fastening, and of a single piece, according to a custom there,

and in use among buccaneers.

After skinning a bull or some large boar, they carefully loosen the skin

of one of the front extremities, from the breast to the knee, and turn

it back like a stocking which one pulls off; after having completely

detached it from the bones, they then put their feet into this supple

and fresh skin, placing the large toe a little more toward the place

which covered the knee of the animal. Once shod in this manner they tie

up with a sinew that portion which extends beyond the end of the foot,

and cut off the surplus. Then they raise and pull up the remainder of

the skin halfway up their legs, where they fasten it with a leather

strap. In drying, this species of boot assumes the shape of the foot,

remaining perfectly soft, supple, and wearing a long time, it being

impervious, and proof against the sting of serpents.

The buccaneer looked curiously at Croustillac, leaning on his gun, a

kind especially used by buccaneers; these guns were made at Dieppe and

St. Malo. The figure of the hunter was rough and common; he wore a cap

of boar's skin; his beard was long and bristling; his look ferocious.

Croustillac said resolutely, "Ah, comrade, would you refuse a morsel of

this roast to a gentleman who is famished?"

"The roast is not mine," said the buccaneer.

"How? to whom, then, does it belong?"

"To Master Rend-your-Soul, who has his depot of skins and buccaneer

supplies at Caiman's Point."

"This roast belongs to Master Rend-your-Soul," cried the chevalier,

surprised at the chance which had brought him in contact with one of

the happy lovers of Blue Beard, if these slanderous stories were true.

"This roast belongs to Rend-your-Soul," repeated Croustillac.

"It belongs to him," said the man with the long gun, laconically.

At this moment was heard a shot which echoed through the forest. "That

is the master," said the man.

The dogs recognized, doubtless, the approach of the hunter; for they

began to bark joyfully, and dashed off through the undergrowth in order

to reach the buccaneer.

Warned of the return of the master, the man, whom we will call Peter,

took out one of his largest knives, approached the wild boar, and in

order the better to moisten the venison, stabbed the flesh several

times, without injuring the skin, for the plentiful mixture of lemon

juice, spice and fat which filled the belly of the boar was running out.

Each of these incisions caused such appetizing odors to rise that the

chevalier, inhaling this exquisite odor, almost forgot the approach of

Rend-your-Soul. However, the latter appeared, followed by his dogs,

jumping and pressing about him.

Master Rend-your-Soul was large and robust. His skin, naturally white,

was browned by the sun and by the wild life which he led; his thick

black beard fell on his breast; his features were regular, but severe

and hard. Although not so poor as that of his servant, his clothing was

of much the same fashion. Like him, he wore at his waist a case filled

with a number of knives; his legs, however, in place of being half

naked, were incased, as far as the knee, by bands of boar-skins tied

with sinews, and he wore large shoes of untanned leather. His large

Spanish hat was ornamented with two or three red feathers; and the

mountings of his buccaneer gun were of silver. Such was the difference

between the costume and arms of Master Rend-your-Soul and that of his

servant.

When he entered the clearing, he held his gun under his arm and plucked

carelessly a wood-pigeon which he had killed; three others were hung at

his belt by a snare; he threw them to Peter, who immediately began to

pluck and clean them with wonderful dexterity. These wood-pigeons, of

the size of a partridge, were plump, fine and round as quails. As fast

as Peter had one ready, he cut off its head and feet and put it to cook

in the thick and abundant sauce which filled the boar's belly. When

Master Rend-your-Soul had finished plucking his, he threw it in also.

Peter said, "Master, shall I close the roast?"

"Close it," replied the master.

Then Peter cut the strings which held the boar; the cavity of the belly

almost closed and the pigeons began to boil in this novel fashion.

During all these culinary preparations the buccaneer had not appeared to

perceive the chevalier, who, with foot advanced, nose in the air, and

hand on the hilt of his sword, was prepared to answer proudly any

interrogatories which might be made, and even to question in return

Master Rend-your-Soul. The latter, having cut off the head and feet of

the pigeon which he was plucking, wiped his knife quietly and replaced

it in his case.

To explain the indifference of the buccaneer, we must say to the reader

that nothing was more common than that people should visit the

buccaneers out of curiosity. The buccaneers were, in their customs, very

like the Caribbeans. Like them they were proud to accord hospitality;

like them they allowed any one to come who was hungry and thirsty and

partake of their repasts; but, like the Caribbeans also, they regarded

an invitation as a superfluous formality. The feast ready, let eat it

who would.

After disembarrassing himself of his belt and gun, Rend-your-Soul

extended himself on the ground, drew a gourd hidden under the fresh

leaves, and drank some brandy as a preparation for dinner.

Croustillac was still in the same attitude, nose in the air, foot

advanced, hand on his sword; the color rose to his forehead; nothing

could have insulted him more than the absolute indifference of

Rend-your-Soul to his presence.

Had Blue Beard, by the intermediation of the filibustering captain,

instructed the buccaneer to act in this manner if he should encounter

the chevalier? Was this hunter's carelessness genuine or feigned? This

is what we cannot yet tell the reader. The situation of Croustillac was

none the less delicate and difficult; in spite of his audacity he did

not know how to begin the conversation. Finally recovering himself, he

said to the buccaneer, advancing toward him, "Are you blind, comrade?"

"Answer, Peter, some one speaks to you," said Rend-your-Soul,

carelessly.

"No, it is to you I speak," said the Gascon impatiently.

"No," said the buccaneer.

"How so?" replied the chevalier.

"You said 'comrade;' I am not your comrade; my servant is, perhaps."

"Zounds!"

"I am a master buccaneer; you are not; it is only my brother-hunters who

are my comrades," said Rend-your-Soul, interrupting Croustillac.

"And how is one to address you in order to have the honor of a reply?"

said the chevalier, angrily.

"If you come to purchase skins or buccaneer supplies, address me as you

will; if you come to see the station, look about you; if you are hungry,

when the boar is cooked, eat."

"They are regular brutes, true savages," thought the chevalier; "it

would be folly in me to resent their stupidities; I am dying with

hunger, I am lost; the animal can give me a dinner, and if I carry

myself wisely will point out to me the road to Devil's Cliff. Let us

eat." Then, looking at the man, half barbarian that he was, with his

garments stained with blood, Croustillac said to himself, shrugging his

shoulders, "And it is to such a boor that they give the beautiful, the

adorable Blue Beard. Zounds! she must be like him herself."

Peter, finding the boar cooked to a turn, busied himself in removing the

cover; he placed on the earth, under the trees, a number of large

leaves, fresh and green, to serve as a tablecloth. He then picked a

large leaf, made four holes at its edge, and passed a creeper through

them, and thus formed a species of cup in which he squeezed the juice

of a number of lemons which he had picked, and with which he mixed salt

and spices crushed between two stones. The sauce was called pimentade,

was extremely strong, and was used generally by buccaneers and

filibusters. Opposite this sauce and in another leaf, he put yams cooked

in the ashes; their skins, a little burned, had split open and showed a

pulp yellow as amber.

The chevalier was disturbed as to how he was to drink, for he had a

burning thirst, but he quickly saw the servant returning with a large

gourd filled with a pink and limpid liquor. It was the sugar of the

maple tree, which flowed in abundance from the tree when it was pierced

deeply. This was a fresh and healthy beverage and tasted like Bordeaux

wine mixed with sugar and water.

Finally, after placing this gourd on the leaves which served as a

tablecloth, the servant broke off a large branch of apricots, covered

with flowers and fruit, and stuck it into the earth in the midst of the

leaves. These natives are not so stupid as they appear, thought the

chevalier. Here is a repast which Dame Nature pays for and which would

satisfy, I am sure, the greatest gourmand. Croustillac waited

impatiently for the moment to begin. Finally the servant, having

examined the boar with a critical eye, said to the buccaneer, "Master,

it is cooked."

"Let us eat," said the master.

By means of a fork cut out of oak, the servant took one of the pigeons,

put it on a fresh leaf, and offered it to the buccaneer; then, helping

himself in turn, he left the fork in the venison. The chevalier, seeing

that no one occupied himself with him, took a pigeon, a yam, seated

himself near the master and servant buccaneers, and, like them, began to

eat with the best of appetites.

The pigeon was cooked so deliciously, the yams were perfect, and like

the most delicious potatoes. The pigeons disposed of, Peter cut long and

thick slices of the venison for his master. The chevalier followed his

example and found the flesh exquisite, fat and succulent, of fine flavor

enhanced the more by the pimentade.

Croustillac frequently quenched his thirst, as did his companions, from

the gourd of maple sugar, and he finished his repast by eating half a

dozen apricots of wonderful fragrance and very superior to the European

species.

Peter brought, then, a gourd of brandy; the master drank and then passed

it to his servant, who did likewise, then closed it carefully, to the

great disappointment of the chevalier who had extended his hand for it.

This was not stupidity on the part of the buccaneers; there is among the

Caribbeans a great distinction between the natural gifts which cost

nothing, belonging, so to speak, to everyone, and the articles purchased

with money, which belong exclusively to those who possess them--brandy,

powder, bullets, arms, skins, venison prepared after the fashion of the

buccaneers for sale, being of this number; fruits, game, fish, were

held, on the contrary, in common.

Nevertheless, the chevalier frowned, rather from pride than gluttony. He

was on the point of complaining of this lack of respect to the servant,

but reflecting that, after all, he owed his excellent repast to

Rend-your-Soul, and that the latter could alone put him on the road to

Devil's Cliff, he restrained his ill humor, and said to the buccaneer

with a jovial air, "Faith! sir, do you know you give great and good

cheer?"

"One eats what he finds; boars and bulls are not wanting in this island,

and the sale of their skins is good," said the buccaneer, filling his

pipe.

CHAPTER XI.

MASTER REND-YOUR-SOUL.

The more closely the chevalier studied Master Rend-your-Soul, the less

he was able to believe that this half barbarian was in the good graces

of Blue Beard. The buccaneer, having lighted his pipe, lay down on his

back, put his two hands under his head, and smoked, with his eyes fixed

on the hut, with an appearance of profound beatitude, and said to the

chevalier, "You have come here in a litter, with your pink stockings?"

"No, my good friend, I have come on foot, and I would have come on my

head in order to see the most famous buccaneer in all the Antilles,

whose fame has even reached Europe."

"If you are in need of skins," said the buccaneer in answer, "I have a

dozen bulls' skins so fine and beautiful that you would suppose them to

be buffalo. I have also a string of boar's hams such as are not cured in

any station."

"No, no, my brave friend, I tell you admiration, nothing but admiration

has guided me. I arrived from France five days since in the Unicorn, and

my first visit is to you, whose merit I am well aware of."

"Truly?"

"As true as I call myself the Chevalier de Croustillac, for you will not

be displeased, perhaps, to know with whom you talk. My name is

Croustillac."

"All names are a matter of indifference to me, except that of

_purchaser_."

"And admirer, my brave friend, admirer, is that nothing? I, who have

come from Europe expressly to see you?"

"You knew, then, that you would find me here?"

"Not exactly; but Providence has arranged it; and, thanks to

Providence, I have met the famous Rend-your-Soul."

"Decidedly he is stupid," thought the chevalier. "I have nothing to

contend with in such a rival; if the others are no more dangerous, it

will be very easy for me to make Blue Beard adore me; but I must find

the road to Devil's Cliff. It will be truly racy to be conducted thither

by this bear." He spoke: "But, my brave hunter, alas! all glory is

bought; I wished to see you, I have seen you."

"Very well, go your way, then," said the buccaneer, expelling a cloud of

tobacco smoke.

"I like your brusque frankness, worthy Nimrod; but in order to go, I

must learn a road thence, and I know none."

"From whence came you?"

"From Macouba, where I lodged at the house of the Reverend Father

Griffen."

"You are only two leagues from Macouba; my servant will guide you

there."

"How! only two leagues!" cried the chevalier. "It is impossible! I have

walked since daybreak yesterday, until night, and since early morn until

noon, and have I gone but two leagues?"

"One sometimes sees boars and above all young bulls deceived thus, and

make many steps almost without changing the inclosure," said the

buccaneer.

"Your comparison smacks of the art of hunting, and, noble following as

it is, cannot shock a gentleman; then, admit that I have dodged about,

even like a young bull, as you say; it does not follow that I wish to

return to Macouba; and I depend upon you to show me the road I should

follow."

"Where do you wish to go?"

For a moment the chevalier hesitated, and knew not what reply to make.

Should he avow frankly his intention of going to Devil's Cliff?

Croustillac sought refuge in a subterfuge--"I wish to go by the road to

Devil's Cliff."

"The road to Devil's Cliff only leads to Devil's Cliff, and----"

The buccaneer did not finish his sentence, but his face became menacing.

"And--where does the road to Devil's Cliff lead?"

"It leads sinners to hell, and saints to paradise."

"So, a stranger, a traveler, who has a whim to visit Devil's Cliff----"

"Would never return from thence."

"At least, in that case, one does not risk getting lost on the return,"

said the chevalier coolly. "'Tis well, my good friend, then show me the

way."

"We have eaten under the same roof, we have drunk from the same cup; I

would not willingly cause your death."

"So, in conducting me to Devil's Cliff, you kill me?"

"It will come to the same thing."

"Although your dinner was perfect, and your company very agreeable, my

brave Nimrod, you almost make me regret it, as this prevents you from

satisfying my wish. But what danger threatens me, then?"

"All the dangers of death that a man can brave."

"All these dangers--make but one, seeing that one can but die once,"

said the Gascon carelessly.

The buccaneer scanned the chevalier closely, and appeared impressed by

his courage as much as by the air of frankness and good humor which

showed through all his extravagance.

The chevalier continued: "The Chevalier de Croustillac never knows fear

while he has his sister at his side."

"What sister?"

"This, which, by heavens, is not virgin," cried the Gascon, drawing his

sword and brandishing it. "The kisses she gives are sharp, and the

bravest have regretted making her acquaintance."

"Miaow! miaow!" said the servant, who was a witness of this scene. This

cry made the Gascon start, and recalled to him the exploits of the

preceding night. He colored with rage, advanced upon the servant with

the sword's point, in order to chastise him with the flat of his steel;

but Peter withdrew dexterously and got out of reach, while the buccaneer

burst into laughter.

This hilarity exasperated the chevalier, who said to Rend-your-Soul,

"Zounds! if you dare attack a man as you would a bull, beware."

"Look at your sword; the steel is stained with blood and covered with

the hair of wildcats; it is that which made Peter cry out 'Miaow!'"

"Defend yourself," repeated the chevalier furiously.

"When I have four feet, claws and a tail, I will fight with you," said

the buccaneer quietly.

"I will mark your face, then," said the chevalier, advancing toward

Rend-your-Soul.

"Softly, velvet claws, pussy velvet claws," said the buccaneer,

laughing, and parrying with the muzzle of his gun the furious thrusts

which the exasperated chevalier bestowed upon him.

The servant would have come to the rescue of his master, but the latter

forbade.

"Do not stir; I will answer for this redoubtable fellow. 'The burned cat

dreads cold water,' as they say. I am going to give him a good lesson."

These sarcasms increased the chevalier's rage; he forgot his adversary

was defending himself with a gun, and he showered some desperate blows

upon him, while the buccaneer, showing a marvelous address and a rare

vigor, used his heavy gun like a stick.

During this unequal combat, the buccaneer added to his insolence by

imitating the cry which cats make when they are angry, when they

disagree. This last outrage capped the climax; but against his attack he

found, in the buccaneer, a gladiator of the greatest strength in

fencing; and he had shortly the chagrin of seeing himself disarmed; his

sword was struck off some ten paces. The buccaneer threw himself upon

the Gascon; raised his gun like a club; he seized the chevalier by the

collar and cried, "Your life is mine; I am going to break your head like

an eggshell."

Croustillac, looking at him without flinching, said, coldly, "And you

are trebly right, for I am a triple traitor." The buccaneer recoiled a

step. "I was hungry--you gave me food; I was thirsty and you gave me

drink; you were unarmed and I attacked you. Break my head--Zounds! break

it, you are right. Croustillac is dishonored."

This was not the language of an assassin or a spy; then, holding out his

hand to the chevalier, the buccaneer said, with a rough voice, "Come,

clasp hands; we have been seated under the same roof, we have fought

together--we are brothers."

The chevalier was about to put his hand in that of the buccaneer, but he

paused and said gravely, "Frankness for frankness; before giving you my

hand I must tell you one thing."

"What?"

"I am your rival."

"Rival! how is that?"

"I love Blue Beard, and I am resolved at all hazards to go to her and to

please her."

"Clasp hands, brother."

"A moment--I must say to you that when Polypheme Croustillac wishes to

please, he pleases; when he pleases, one loves him; and when one loves

him, one loves him madly and unto death."

"Clasp hands, brother."

"I will not touch your hand until you tell me if you will accept me

openly for your rival?"

"And if not?"

"If not, break my head; you will be right in so doing. We are alone;

your servant will not betray you; but I will never renounce the hope,

the certainty, of pleasing Blue Beard."

"Ah, this is another matter."

"A last question," continued the chevalier; "You go often to Devil's

Cliff?"

"I go often to Devil's Cliff."

"You see Blue Beard?"

"I see her."

"You love her?"

"I love her."

"She loves you?"

"She loves me."

"You?"

"Me."

"She loves you?"

"To madness----"

"She has told you so?"

"And--Blue Beard----"

"Is my mistress."

"On the word of a buccaneer?"

"On the word of a buccaneer."

"Then," said the chevalier to himself, "there is no more discretion

among barbarians than among civilized people. Who would say at the sight

of such a stupid fellow, that he was a coxcomb?" Then he said aloud,

"Ah, well, then, I repeat to you, break my head, for if you spare my

life I shall reach Devil's Cliff; I shall do all I can to please Blue

Beard, and I _shall_ please her, I warn you. So, then, once more, break

my head, or resign yourself to seeing in me a rival, shortly a happy

rival!"

"I say to you, clasp hands, brother."

"How? in spite of what I say?"

"Yes."

"It does not alarm you?"

"No."

"It is all the same to you if I go to Devil's Cliff?"

"I will conduct you there, myself."

"Yourself?"

"To-day."

"And I shall see Blue Beard?"

"You shall see her as often as you wish."

The chevalier, moved by the confidence in him which the buccaneer

testified, did not wish to abuse it; he said in a solemn tone, "Listen,

buccaneer, you are as generous as a savage; this is not by way of

offense; but, my worthy friend, my loyal enemy, you are as ignorant as a

savage. Reared in the midst of the forest, you have no idea what a man

is who has passed his life in pleasing, seducing; you do not know the

marvelous resources which such a man finds in his natural attractions;

you do not know the irresistible influence of a word, a gesture, a

smile, a look! This poor Blue Beard does not know either; to judge from

what they say of her three husbands. They were three worthless fellows,

three vagabonds; she rid herself of them, rightly. Why has she rid

herself of them? Because she sought an ideal, an unknown being, the

dream of her dreams. Now, my brave friend, always be it said without

offense, you cannot deceive yourself to such a degree as to think that

you realize this dream of Blue Beard; you cannot really take yourself

for a Celadon--for an Adonis----"

The buccaneer looked at Croustillac with a stupid air and did not appear

to understand him; he said, pointing to the sun, "The sun is setting; we

have four leagues to make before we arrive at Devil's Cliff; let us

start."

"This unhappy man," thought the chevalier, "has not the slightest idea

of the danger he runs; it is a pity to disabuse his blindness; it is

like striking a child; it is snaring a sitting pheasant; it is killing a

sleeping man; on the honor of De Croustillac, it gives me scruples."

Then aloud, "You do not understand, then, my brave friend, that this man

as seductive as irresistible of whom I speak is none other than myself?"

"Ah, bah! it is impossible."

"Your surprise is not flattering, brave hunter, but if I speak thus to

you of myself, it is that honor compels me to tell the truth, the whole

truth, and nothing but the truth. You do not understand that, once

having seen me, Blue Beard will love me; and she will not love you any

more, my poor Rend-your-Soul. Understand, then, that it would be

cowardly and treasonable on my part not to warn you in advance as to the

position you hold with Blue Beard. I repeat, from the moment when I put

foot in Devil's Cliff, from the moment she sees me, when she hears me,

her love for you is at an end. Meantime, I have warned you, loyally

warned you; consider if you are willing to risk it."

"Clasp hands, brother," said the buccaneer, seemingly insensible to the

danger that the chevalier pointed out to him. "Let us be going. We will

arrive at night at Devil's Cliff; a fall from the precipice would not be

pleasant at this hour."

"Come on--you are mad--so be it, but I have warned you; it will be open

war," said the chevalier.

The buccaneer, without making any reply to the chevalier, said to his

servant, "Shut up the dogs in the house, and have ready two dozen bulls'

skins, which will be needed to-morrow at Basse-Terre; I shall not

return to-night."

"It falls aright," said the servant to himself, and with a shrewd air;

"he sleeps away from the hut one night in every three."

While the buccaneer attached his belt, the chevalier said to himself,

looking at the hunter with a feeling of pity, "Faith! but he puts the

rope gayly about his own throat; since he will not heed my warning, let

him look out for himself. It appears that lovers are, in such cases, no

wiser than husbands. But as regards Blue Beard--if she is pretty--it

must be that she is--can she receive such a savage? Poor little thing.

It is very simple. She does not know the compensation that is reserved

for her. Hail to the gods. Croustillac, thy star has arisen!" continued

the chevalier, after some minutes of reflection.

"Come, brother, let us start," said the buccaneer; "but before doing so,

Peter shall envelop your legs in a piece of skin which he has, for we

are going to traverse a bad quarter for serpents."

The chevalier thanked the buccaneer, not without shrugging his shoulders

in pity for him, and said, "Unhappy man! he is shoeing me, but I shall

put a cap on him!"

This stupid joke was to be fatally punished in Croustillac, who followed

his guide with renewed ardor, for was he not going to see Blue Beard?

PART II.