In this way, then, the difficulty was settled, and Yvonne found herself in quarters of unwonted comfort for a West India trader, Captain Eliphalet being given to luxury beyond the most of his Puritan kin. She was contented with her accomplishment so far as it went; and having two gallant men to deal with she felt already secure of her empire. She read approbation, too, in those enigmatic eyes of Mother Pêche, with their whites ever glancing and gleaming. Moreover, as she sat down to luncheon, to the condiment of a bounding heart and so much appetite as might nourish a pee-wee bird, she had two points gained to elate her. First, in passing the open hatchway which, as Captain Eliphalet told her, led to the prisoners’ quarters, she had shaken lightly from her lips enough clear laughter to reach, as she guessed, those ears attuned to hear it; and second, she had the promises both of the broad-bearded captain and the beautifully barbered lieutenant, that her _cousins_, Monsieur de Mer and Monsieur Paul Grande, should be brought on deck to see her that very day. “You should be very good to them, gentlemen,” she said demurely, picking with dubious fork at brown strips of toasted herring on her plate. “My cousin Marc especially. _He_ is half _English_, you know. He has the most adorable English wife, from Boston, with red hair wherein he easily persuades himself that the sun rises and sets.” “If you would have us love them for your sake, mademoiselle, love them not too much yourself,” laughed the broad-bearded Captain Eliphalet, in vast good-humour; but the admirable lieutenant murmured: “There is no hair but black hair—black with somehow a glint in it when the sun strikes—so.” And Mother Pêche, passing behind them and catching a flash from Yvonne’s eye, smiled many thoughts. Chapter XXXIV The Soul’s Supremer Sense At this point it seems proper that I should once more speak in my own person; for at this point the story of my beloved once more converges to my own. I was awakened out of a bitter dream by Marc’s lips moving at my ear in the stealthiest whisper. The first pallor of dawn was sifting down amongst us from the open hatch, opened for air. I nodded my head to signify I was awake and listening. There was a ringing gabble of small waves against the ship’s side, covering up all trivial sounds; and I knew we were tacking.