a paper, part of which was torn, contained this written confession, in the handwriting of the commander, a few days after the bloody tragedy which he relates. the person to whom it was addressed is unknown. some passages, tom intentionally, perhaps, seem to refer to a journey, made by the commander in languedoc at the same period, for the purpose, no doubt, of learning the fate of his unfortunate child.

“and my hands are stained with blood. i have just committed a murder.

“i have assassinated the man against whom i have committed a deadly wrong.

“at eleven o’clock i presented myself at the little gate of the park. i was conducted into the chamber of emilie.

“she was in bed, pale, almost dying.

“she, formerly so beautiful, seemed the ghost of herself. the hand of god had already touched her.

“i seated myself at her bedside. she extended to me her trembling, icy hand.

“i pressed it to my lips, my cold lips.

“we gave a last painful look at the past i accused myself of having destroyed her.

“we spoke of our unfortunate child. we wept, oh, how bitterly! when suddenly—

“ah! i feel still the cold sweat deluge my brow. my hair stands on end, and a terrible voice cries to me, ‘murderer! murderer!’

“oh, i will not seek to fly from remorse; till my last day i shall keep before me the image of my victim.

“by the judgment of god, which has already condemned me, i take oath to do it.

“let me recall the scene.

“it was a terrible moment.

“the chamber of emilie was dimly lighted by a night-lamp placed near the door.

“my back was toward this door. i was seated by her bed. she could not retain her sobs. my forehead was resting on my hand.

“the most profound silence reigned around us.

“i had just spoken to her of our child. i had just promised to fulfil her will in reference to him.

“i had tried to console her, to induce her to hope for better days, to reanimate her courage, to give her strength to conceal all from her husband; to prove to her that, for his own peace and happiness, it was better to let him remain in confident security.

“suddenly the door behind me opened with violence.

“emilie cried in terror: ‘my husband! i am dead!’

“before i could turn around, an involuntary movement of her husband extinguished the lamp.

“we were all three in the dark.

“‘do not kill me before forgiving me!’ cried emilie.

“‘oh—you first—him afterwards,’ said count de montreuil, in a hollow voice.

“the moment was horrible.

“he advanced irresolutely. i advanced also.

“i wished to meet him and hold him back.

“we said nothing. the silence was profound.

“nothing was heard but the sound of our oppressed breathing, and the low, spasmodic voice of emilie, who murmured: ‘lord have pity on me! lord have pity on me!’

“suddenly i felt a hand as cold as marble on my forehead.

“it was the hand of her husband. in seeking her, he had touched me.

“he started, and said, without concerning himself further about me: ‘her bed ought to be on the left!’

“his calmness terrified me. i threw myself on him.

“at that moment, emilie, whom he had doubtless already seized, cried, ‘mercy! mercy!’

“i tried to take him by the middle of his body. i felt the point of a dagger graze my hand.

“emilie uttered a long sigh. she was killed or wounded, her blood spouted up on my forehead.

“then my brain became wild; i felt myself endowed with a supernatural strength. with my left hand i seized the right arm of the murderer; with my right hand i snatched his dagger from him, and plunged it twice in his breast.

“i heard him fall without uttering a cry. from that moment i remember nothing.

“i found myself at the rising of the sun lying by the side of a hedge. i was covered with blood.

“for some moments i could remember nothing, then all returned to my memory. i returned home, avoiding the sight of every one.

“i discovered, as i entered, that my maltese cross was lost. perhaps it had been taken away from me in the struggle.

“i found peyrou, who was waiting for me with my horses. i arrived here.”

[some pages are wanting in this place.]

“... and she is no more.

“he lies by her side in the same tomb. the idea of murder pursues me. i am doubly criminal.

“my entire life will not suffice to expiate this murder, and...”

the rest of this page was wanting.

the last letter which the casket contained was a letter addressed to peyrou by a bargemaster in the neighbourhood of aiguemortes five years after the events which we have just recorded, and the same year, no doubt, of the abduction of erebus by the pirates on the coast of languedoc.

peyrou, who was then serving on board the galleys of religion with the commander, was in the secret of this strange and bloody tragedy.

the following letter was addressed to malta, to which place he had followed the commander, who, five years after these fatal events had transpired, was still unwilling to enter france.

to m. bernard peyrou, overseer-patron of our lady of seven sorrows.

“my dear peyrou:—three days ago a great calamity occurred. a pirate galley made a descent on the unguarded coast.

“the pirates put all to fire and sword, and carried off into slavery all the inhabitants upon whom they could fasten their chains. i hardly know how to tell you the rest of this misfortune. the woman agniel and the child that you confided to her care have disappeared, no doubt massacred, or carried away captives by these pirates. i went into her house, and everything there showed marks of violence. alas! i must tell you, there remained no doubt that the woman and child had shared the fate of the other inhabitants of this unfortunate village. we can hardly hope that the child was able to endure the fatigues and hardships of the voyage. i send you the only thing that could be found in the house, the picture of the child, which, in obedience to your order, the woman agniel had taken to montpellier, where the portrait had been executed about a month before. i saw the child quite recently, and i can assure you that it is an excellent likeness. alas! it is, perhaps, all that remains of him now. i send this letter directly to malta by the tartan st. cecile, so that it may reach you safely.

“p. s. in case the child is recovered, i inform you that there is a maltese cross tattooed on his arm.”

to complete the explanation of the tragedy, it remains to be said that, although pog—the count de montreuil—was dangerously wounded, he retained sufficient strength and presence of mind to keep the events of that fatal night a profound secret.

after the death of emilie, he commanded justine, under the direst threats, to say that her mistress, overwhelmed with grief at the death of her child, had finally succumbed to the desperate illness which ensued.

nothing seemed more plausible than this account, hence it was generally accepted.

the count de montreuil remained concealed in his house until his wound was thoroughly healed. with every conceivable threat and promise, he tried to induce justine to reveal the secret of the child’s hiding-place, but all his efforts were unavailing.

it now becomes necessary to explain how the count surprised the interview between emilie and the commander.

learning the supposed death of his child, while in the lazaretto or pest-house near marseilles, he was plunged in desperate grief. he believed that his wife was no less inconsolable, and, notwithstanding the penalty of death incurred by deserters from the lazaretto, before the expiration of the established quarantine, he swam that night even from the island ratonneau, where the sanitary buildings were situated.

reaching the coast, where a trusty servant awaited him with clothing, he assumed another name, and galloped in hot haste on the road to lyons. leaving his horses about two leagues from his house, he accomplished the rest of the journey on foot. passing through the little gate which the commander had left open, he entered the park.

several days before, by way of precaution, emilie had dismissed most of her servants, under various pretexts, retaining two women only of whom she felt sure. her husband, finding the house almost deserted, entered unperceived, and stood at the door of emilie’s chamber, while she believed that he would remain ten days longer in the lazaretto.

hearing the conversation which took place between his wife and pierre des anbiez, the count de montreuil could have no further doubt of her infidelity.

when he had entirely recovered from his wounds, he abandoned his house, situated in the country near lyons, for ever; and feeling sure of justine’s silence, as the woman had no interest in betraying his secret, he left france, taking with him a considerable sum in gold.

when his disappearance from the lazaretto was discovered, it was believed and currently reported that the count de montreuil, frenzied by grief over the loss of his child, had thrown himself into the sea. while this rumour was accepted in france, the commander believed that his victim had died from his wounds.

thus it was that the count de montreuil was ignorant of the name of emilie’s seducer, and the only clew he had was the commander’s maltese cross, which had fallen on the floor of the chamber.

this cross bore the initials l. p. on its ring, which letters proved that its owner belonged to the proven?al nation. this explains the intense hatred which pog cherished against the chevaliers of malta.

his thirst for vengeance was so blind, that, by preference, he directed his attacks against languedoc and provence, because emilie’s seducer must have been a chevalier of malta, born in that province.

it is needless to say, if the love pog felt for emilie before her betrayal was strong and passionate, the rage, or rather the monomania, which seized his mind after he learned of the deception practised upon him, was in itself a terrible proof of his love and desperate grief.

the portrait which hung above the coffin which served as a bed for the commander des anbiez, as a part of the expiation of his crime, was the portrait of the count de montreuil, or pog,—obtained by peyrou at the sale of the house near lyons.

let us now return to pog, in his chamber on the red galleon.

after having read the letters which unveiled so many mysteries, he remained for a time in a sort of dazed state of mind. he closed his eyes. a thousand conflicting thoughts and ideas reached his brain. he feared he was losing his mind.

by degrees he recovered his self-possession, and contemplated the new opportunities which this discovery offered his hatred with a calmness which was more dreadful than anger.