"M. Cloarek! Impossible!" exclaimed Onésime, raising himself up in bed, in spite of his weakness. "Yes, he had an axe in his hand. His garments were covered with blood; his face, never, oh, never, have I beheld a face so terrible. When he came in, Sabine, not distinguishing his features at first, uttered a cry of horror, and exclaimed, 'The black man! The black man!' and when M. Cloarek ran to his daughter, she recoiled in terror, crying, 'Father, ah, father, then it was you who killed my mother!' and fell apparently lifeless upon the floor." "Yes, yes, those words, 'Father, then it was you who killed my mother,' I heard them vaguely, as life seemed to be deserting me. Oh, this is frightful, frightful! What a horrible discovery! What misery it entails! Such a tender father and loving daughter to have such a gulf between them for ever! You were right, aunt, you were right! It does indeed require courage to bear such a revelation. And Mlle. Sabine, how has she been since that time?" "The unfortunate child lay between life and death for two whole days, as I told you." "And M. Cloarek?" "Alas! we know nothing about him. On hearing his daughter reproach him for her mother's death, he uttered a loud cry, and rushed out of the room like one demented, and nothing has been seen of him since." "How unfortunate! Great Heavens, how unfortunate! But how did M. Cloarek hear of this intended attack?" "It seems this party had made two or three similar descents at different points along the coast; but this attack was unquestionably made in the hope of capturing M. Cloarek, who, under the name of Captain l'Endurci, had inflicted such injury upon the British navy." The nurse, reëntering the room at that moment, said to Suzanne: "Madame Roberts, M. Segoffin wishes to speak to you, as well as to M. Onésime, if he feels able to see him." "Certainly," responded the young man, promptly. Segoffin entered the room almost immediately. Dame Roberts did not receive him with ironical words and looks, as she had been wont to do, however. On the contrary, she advanced to meet him with affectionate eagerness. "Well, my dear Segoffin, is your news good or bad?" she exclaimed. "I hardly know, my dear Suzanne. It will all depend upon this," he sighed, drawing a bulky envelope from his pocket as he spoke. "What is that?" "A letter from M. Cloarek." "He is alive, then, thank Heaven!" "Yes, and his only remaining hope is in this letter, and I am to give the letter to you, M. Onésime." "To me?" "And I am to tell you what you are to do with it. But first let me ask if you feel able to get up?" "Yes, oh, yes!" exclaimed the young man, making a quick movement. "And I say you are not. It would be exceedingly imprudent in you, Onésime," cried his aunt.