"But by St. George!" cried Monmouth. The chevalier was about to open the door when the young woman seized him by the hands with such a beseeching air that he paused in spite of himself. "Yes, yes, I will go with you," she said, in a frightened manner. "At last!" said the Gascon, "so be it. Take my arm and let us go; De Chemerant has waited a long time." "But just a moment--you must know all," said the poor woman hastily. "The Caribbean is in reality the filibuster, or rather the buccaneer and the Caribbean are----" "Ah, there you go again; do you wish that I should retain my senses?" cried the Gascon, making a desperate effort and running toward the door in order to call De Chemerant. The prince flung himself upon Croustillac, and, seizing his two wrists in one hand, placed the other over his mouth at the moment Croustillac called "Help, De Chemerant!" then he said, "I am the Duke of Monmouth!" The prince thought the chevalier would understand everything the moment he spoke, but in the exasperation which Croustillac felt, he only saw in this statement a new artifice or a new provocation, and he redoubled his efforts to escape. Though much less strong than the duke, the chevalier was not without energy; he began to struggle violently, when Angela, terrified, ran and took up a flask, and, putting on her handkerchief a drop of the liquid, rubbed the hand of the prince, removing the stain upon it and showing the white skin. "Do you understand now, sir, that the three persons are one?" said the prince, releasing Croustillac and showing him his white hand. These words were a revelation to Croustillac, and he understood all. Unfortunately, at the moment when the prince took his hand from the mouth of the Gascon, the latter had uttered the words, "Help! De Chemerant!" The sound of the struggle had already attracted the attention of the French envoy, and, hearing the cry of Croustillac, he rushed into the room, sword in hand. It would be impossible to depict the stupefaction, the fright of the three when De Chemerant appeared. The duke put his hand upon his sword. Angela fell back into a chair and hid her face in her hands. Croustillac looked about him with an agonized air, regretting his imprudence, but too late. Nevertheless, the adventurer's presence of mind returned to him little by little; as it needs but a ray of the sun to dispel the thick mist, so the moment that the good chevalier had the key to the three disguises of the prince, everything became clear to him. His mind, until then so sadly agitated, became calm; his unworthy doubt of Blue Beard ceased; there only remained his regret at having accused her, and the desire to devote himself to her and the prince.