Our rencontre at the Variétés, and the fear of discovery, had, doubtless, caused the anxiety Madame Kerouët noticed in his behaviour subsequent to that time. Thus, had it not been for the note of warning, the _commissaire_ and the officer of gendarmerie would have arrested this miserable man on the day of his marriage. And I quite understood that M. Duvallon, the pirate's best man, should have held him up to the eyes of Marie and her aunt in the light of a political victim, in order to deceive them as to the real cause of his arrest. Did Duvallon know the vile traffic of Belmont, or had he, too, been deceived by him? All these thoughts and questions rushed confusedly through my mind, and excited me so much that I left the farm much earlier than usual, under the pretext of a headache. Marie and her aunt were annoyed and worried by my sudden departure. Thus the day, which was to have been a little fête to us, ended very sadly. What ought I to do? I love Marie with all the strength of my soul. It would be no crime to carry her off from Belmont, that brigand, that assassin; it would be a noble and generous action. Marie has been basely deceived. Her family thought they were uniting her to a brave and honest sailor, and not to a vile murderer. This marriage is void, in the name of reason and honour. It should also be null in the sight of men! This very day I will tell everything to these unhappy women. But will they believe what I have to say? What proof can I give them of my truthfulness? And then there would be, in such a denunciation on my part, something low and mean, which is revolting. After all, Marie is the legitimate wife of Belmont. I am in love with Marie. Such a love almost puts that man on a level with me. Now it is to be, henceforth, open war between us. I have already the advantage, for he is absent; it would not be fair to augment my chances of success by turning informer. So, finally, if Marie loves me enough to vanquish her scruples to forget her duty towards a man whom she believes to be honest and good, shall I not take more pride in my conquest than if she believed herself only sacrificing a vile creature, who was unworthy of her and who had deceived her, a man that the law might claim as its prey? Decidedly, I shall say nothing at all. But suppose that man should return? My God, what a frightful thought! Marie is his wife after all, and it is only by a extraordinary hazard that she has been saved from being defiled by that infamous man. My scruples are crazy, are stupid. Why should I hesitate to tell Marie all? But what good would it do? Would such a disclosure hasten, or would it hinder this man's return? He may come back at any time. What shall I do? What shall I do? SERVAL, 12th December, 18--. My _incognito_ has been discovered, Marie knows who I am. Yesterday I went to the farm. I was still irresolute as to what I ought to say in regard to the pirate.