However, after the first few days were past, Ropars and Geneviève felt somewhat re-assured. The blows that death dealt around them were mute and hidden; the edge of inquietude became insensibly blunted. Seeing that it was possible to live in contact with the formidable malady, they half forgot, both of them, that is was also possible to die. It was with them as with the inhabitants of a besieged city, who no longer tremble at the roar of cannon. In vain did the bell tinkle every evening, and the long-boat bring ashore every morning a fresh batch of the death-stricken; the continuance of the danger made it seem to be a matter of course, and this feeling soon merged into a sense of security. Once in a while even, Geneviève forgot every thing and recommenced her singing; but abruptly it was suspended at sight of the yellow flag, or as a sudden recollection crossed her mind. Then the song was stifled into a sigh. Ropars had made inquiries for Monsieur Gabriel, on the first arrival of the sick. The epidemic had not then attacked him; but his own breaking off from all intercourse with the hospital-mates, and with the crew, had prevented his seeking further information. Several boat-loads had been brought ashore, without any opportunity for his hearing of the Lieutenant, when he received a note, cut through with scissors and steeped in vinegar. It contained only these few words, written in pencil: "I am come here.... If I live, we shall meet.... If I die ... present this letter to the captain of the _Thetis_ ... and claim for Josèphe ... my large mahogany chest. GABRIEL." The writing, scarcely legible, betrayed a hand that shook with fever. Mathieu, grievously taken by surprise, forgot this time all his precautions, and ran to the lazaretto. But the Surgeon would not let him see the Lieutenant, whose condition seemed to give him grave concern. In the evening it was still worse, and left little room for hope; on the following day there was none at all. Josèphe, from whom they had concealed the name of the frigate that was ravaged by the epidemic, had no suspicion of the danger of her friend; still, her sister and herself had none the less lost all their gaiety. Prisoners within the narrow bounds marked out by their father, they were both moodily seated near the stake to which the goat was picketted; and she, lying down at their feet, seemed to disdain the fodder that was scattered before her. Josèphe, holding Francine propped against her, proposed to her, one after another, all the little games to which they were accustomed; but the child shook her head, her eyes fixed upon the sea. --"What will you do, then, Zine?" asked she, saddened by her sister's sadness. There was no reply. The elder had one hand upon the younger's head, and played for an instant with the ringlets of her golden hair.