"Very well, that is all right; now I remove the embargo." "Go on board at once, madame," said Croustillac, unable to moderate his impatience. Angela cast a last look at him. The duke made a despairing effort to break his fetters, but he was quickly carried off to the tender by the soldiers. At a sign from Blue Beard, the sailors dipped their oars into the sea and headed for the Chameleon. "Are you satisfied now, your highness," said Chemerant. "No, no; not yet, sir. I shall not be content until I see the vessel set sail," replied the Gascon in a changed voice. "The prince is implacable in his hate," thought Chemerant; "he trembles still with rage, although his revenge is assured." All at once the sky was irradiated by the rays of the sun which made more somber still the line of azure which the sea formed on the horizon; the sun rose majestically, pouring torrents of red upon the water, the rocks, and the bay. At this instant the Chameleon, which had been joined by the small boat, flung to the breeze its white sails, and began to draw in its cable, by which it was attached to the mooring. The brigantine, with a graceful movement, began to tack; during a few seconds it completely hid the disk of the sun, and appeared enveloped in a brilliant aureole. Then the swift vessel, turning its prow toward Cayman's Cove, began to make toward the open sea. Croustillac remained motionless in sorrowful reverie, with his eyes fixed upon the vessel, which was carrying away the woman whom he so suddenly and so madly loved. The adventurer, thanks to his keen sight, could perceive a white handkerchief which was waved from the stern of the vessel. It was the last farewell of Blue Beard. Shortly the breeze freshened. The little vessel, with swift movement, bent under her sails, and went so rapidly that it was, little by little, lost in the midst of the warm mist of the morning. Then it entered into a zone of torrid light which the sun threw on the waves. For some time Croustillac could not follow the Chameleon with his eyes; when he saw her again, the brigantine drew nearer and nearer to the horizon, appearing but a speck in space. Then, doubling the last point of the island, she disappeared all at once. When the poor chevalier could no longer see the vessel, he experienced a profound sorrow. His heart seemed as empty and as solitary as the ocean. "Now, sir," said Chemerant, "let us go and find the friends who are awaiting you so impatiently. In an hour we will be on board the frigate." PART IV. CHAPTER XXX. REGRETS.