after the session, during which, in his function of syndic of the overseers of the port, he had declared the condemnation of raimond v., the watchman of cape l’aigle returned to his sentry-box, temporarily entrusted to the care of the brave luquin trinquetaille.

peyrou was sad; the last words of the baron des anbiez on the subject of the commander had awakened the most painful memories.

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

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

it was with a profound feeling of satisfaction that the watchman set foot upon the esplanade of cape l’aigle.

he approached his sentry-box, and there found the worthy luquin fast asleep.

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

“wake up, wake up! the pirates!”

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

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

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

“that is the reason, my boy, sleep got into them so easily. but i am here now, and you can go down into the city. there will be more than one bottle of wine emptied without your help at the tavern of the golden anchor.”,

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

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

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

“listen, master peyrou, if i were not sure of having swallowed only one glass of sauve-chrétien with that devil of a bohemian, to make peace with him, because stephanette wanted me to do it,—a base weakness for which i cannot forgive myself,—i should certainly think i was drunk,” said the captain.

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

“only one glass, and that only half full, because what you drink with a miscreant like him tastes very bitter.” “is this bohemian always at maison-forte, pray?” asked peyrou, with a thoughtful and serious air.

“always, master peyrou, for everybody there dotes on him, from monseigneur to abbé mascarolus. he is in high favour with the women, from mlle. reine to old dulceline, without speaking of stephanette, who gave him a flame-coloured ribbon—flame-coloured ribbons, indeed!” exclaimed luquin, with indignation. “it is a ribbon woven by the rope-maker that this wretch needs! but what can you do? all the women have their heads turned. and why? because this vagabond strums, good and bad together, in some sort of fashion, an old guitar, so hoarse that it sounds like the pulleys of my tartan, when they hoist the big sail.”

“did not the bohemian arrive at maison-forte the day raimond v. had the recorder chased by a bull?” “yes, master peyrou, it was on that fatal day that this stray dog set foot in maison-forte.”

“that is strange!” said the watchman, talking to himself. “then i was mistaken.”

“ah, master peyrou, i am often seized with a desire to conduct this vagabond out to the cove beach, and exchange pistol-shots with him until either he or i come to our death.”

“come, come, luquin, you are foolish, jealousy makes you wild, and you are wrong. stephanette is a good and honest girl, i can tell you. as to this vagabond—”

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

“wait, master peyrou, you put balm in my blood,” said the captain. “you are almost as good as a sorcerer. everybody respects you and loves you; you take stephanette’s part, so she must deserve it.”

“by our lady, she deserves it without a doubt. did she not come before your departure for nice, and ask me if you could undertake the voyage with safety?”

“that is true, master peyrou, and thanks to you and your cabalistic papers that i put on my bullets, and to your oil of syrakoe, not less magical, with which i rubbed my muskets and cannon, i gave a hot chase to a corsair that came near, indiscreetly near, the terror to the moors and the vessels she was escorting. ah, you are a great man, master peyrou.”

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

after having thanked the watchman again, luquin trinquetaille decided to profit by the advice given with regard to stephanette, and went in all haste to maison-forte.

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

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

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

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

as we have said, the house of maison-forte could be distinctly seen from the western side of the summit of cape l’aigle.

it was about three o’clock, and the watchman thought he saw a ship in the distance. he took up his telescope, and for a long time followed the uncertain point with his eyes, until it became more and more distinct.

he soon recognised a heavy merchant vessel whose aspect presented nothing of menace.

following the manoeuvres and progress of this vessel with the aid of his telescope, he unconsciously turned it upon the imposing mass of maison-forte, the home of raimond v., and on one part of the beach which was absolutely bare, at the point where it touched the rocks upon which the castle stood. he soon distinguished reine des anbiez mounted on her nag and followed by master laramée. the young girl was going, doubtless, in advance of the baron into the road.

several huge rocks intervened, cutting off the view from the beach, and peyrou lost sight of mlle. anbiez.

just at this moment the watchman was startled by a loud noise; he felt the air above him in commotion, and suddenly his eagle fell at his feet. she had come, no doubt, to demand her accustomed food, as her hoarse and impatient cries testified.

the watchman sat caressing the bird abstractedly, when a new incident awakened his interest.

his sight was so penetrating that, in watching the spot on the coast where mlle, des anbiez would be likely to appear, he distinguished a man who seemed to be cautiously hiding himself in the hollow of the rock.

turning his telescope at once on this man, he recognised the bohemian.

to his great astonishment, he saw him draw from a bag a white pigeon, and attach to its neck a small sack, into which he slipped a letter.

evidently the bohemian thought himself protected from all observation, as, owing to the form and elevation of the rock where he was squatting, it was impossible for him to be seen either from the coast or from maison-forte.

only from the prodigious height of cape l’aigle, which commanded the entire shore of the bay, could master peyrou have discovered the bohemian.

after having looked anxiously from one side to the other, as if he feared he might be seen in spite of his precautions, the vagabond again secured the little sack around the neck of the pigeon, and then let it fly.

evidently the intelligent bird knew the direction it was to take.

once set at liberty, it did not hesitate, but rose almost perpendicularly above the bohemian, then flew rapidly toward the east. as quick as thought, peyrou took his eagle and tried to make her perceive the pigeon, which already appeared no larger than a white speck in space.

for a few seconds the eagle did not seem to see the bird; then, suddenly uttering a hoarse cry, she violently spread her broad wings, and started in pursuit of the bohemian’s emissary.

either the unfortunate pigeon was warned by the instinct of danger which threatened it, or it heard the discordant cries of its enemy, for it redoubled its swiftness, and flew with the rapidity of an arrow.

once it endeavoured to rise above the eagle, hoping perhaps to escape its pursuer by disappearing in the low, dark clouds which veiled the horizon; but the eagle, with one swoop of her powerful wings, mounted to such a height, that the pigeon, unable to cope with its adversary, rapidly fell within a few feet of the surface of the sea, grazing the top of the highest waves.

brilliant still followed her victim in this new manoeuvre.

the watchman was divided between the desire to see the end of the struggle between the eagle and the pigeon, and the curiosity to watch the countenance of the bohemian.

thanks to his telescope, he saw the bohemian in a state of extraordinary excitement as he followed with intense anxiety the diverse chances of destruction or safety left to his messenger.

finally, the pigeon attempted one last effort; realising, no doubt, that its destination was too far to be reached, it tried to return and come back to the coast, and thus escape its terrible enemy.

unfortunately, its strength failed; its flight became heavy, and, approaching too near the waves, it was swept by foam and water.

the eagle availed herself of the moment when the pigeon was painfully resuming its embarrassed flight to fall upon it with the rapidity of a thunderbolt. she seized the pigeon in her strong claws, rose swiftly in the direction of the promontory, and came with her prey to take refuge in her eyrie, on a rock not far from the watchman’s sentry-box.

peyrou rose quickly to take the pigeon from her; he could not succeed. the natural ferocity of brilliant was in the ascendency; she bristled her feathers, uttered sharp and fierce cries, and showed herself disposed to defend her prey with her life.

peyrou feared to offend her, lest she might fly away and hide in some inaccessible rock; he allowed her to devour the pigeon in peace, having observed that the little sack tied around the neck of the bird consisted of two silver plates fastened by a small chain of the same material.

he did not, after that discovery, fear the destruction of the letter which he knew was enclosed therein.

while the eagle was devouring the bohemian’s messenger in peace, peyrou returned to the door of his cell, took up his telescope, and vainly examined the rocks on the coast, in order to discover the bohemian; he had disappeared.

while he was occupied with this new investigation, the watchman saw on the shore the carriage of raimond v. the baron had mounted laramée’s horse, and was riding by the side of reine, and doubtless accompanied her to maison-forte.

thinking the eagle had finished her feast, the watchman directed his steps to her eyrie.

brilliant was no longer there, but among the bones and feathers of the pigeon he saw the little sack, opened it, and found there a letter of a few lines written in arabic.

unfortunately, peyrou was not acquainted with that language. only, in his frequent campaigns against the barbary pirates, he had noticed in the letters of marque of the corsairs the word reis, which means captain, and which always followed the name of the commander of the vessels.

in the letter which he had just captured, he found the word reis three times.

he thought the bohemian was possibly the secret emissary of some barbary pirate, whose ship, ambuscaded in one of the deserted bays along the coast, was waiting for some signal to land her soldiers. the bohemian probably had left this ship in order to come to maison-forte, bringing his pigeons with him, and it is well known with what intelligence these birds return to the places they are accustomed to inhabit.

as he raised his head to obtain another view of the horizon, the watchman saw in the distance, on the azure line which separated the sky from the sea, certain triangular sails of unusual height, which seemed to him suspicious. he turned his telescope on them; a second examination confirmed him in the idea that the chebec in sight belonged to some pirate.

for some time he followed the manoeuvres of the vessel.

instead of advancing to the coast, the chebec seemed to run along broadside, and to beat about, in spite of the increasing violence of the wind, as if it were waiting for a guide or signal.

the watchman was trying to connect in his thought the sending of the pigeon with the appearance of this vessel of bad omen, when a light noise made him raise his head.

the bohemian stood before him.