In a brief space after the old man had gone, Brusque and François, unnoticed by the people, wound their way around the trees, and ascended to a sheltered spot, near the cave, to be in readiness to offer succor, should any rudeness or insult be threatened to M. Bonfils. From this cover, they saw him approach the cave, around which about a dozen men were standing. They were all armed, and appeared to be in expectation of attack, yet ready for desperate defence. There was a determination and daring in their looks, which alarmed both François and Brusque: and it was with a feverish interest that they saw the old man, tottering indeed, but still with a calm and tranquil aspect, march directly up to the party, take off his hat, and speak to them as if the emotions of fear were unknown to his bosom. “I have come, my friends,” said he, “for I will not call my fellow-men enemies--I have come to speak to you of peace. I have come in the name of those who are your countrymen, in behalf of mothers, sisters, children, to beg you to lay down your weapons, to lay aside all thoughts of war; to”---- “Down with the old fool!” said a rough voice; “let us hear no more of his twaddle.” “Nay, nay!” said another; “none but a brute will injure an old man: let’s hear him out. It can do us no harm.” This seemed to be acceptable to the party, and M. Bonfils went on. “I pray you to listen to me for a moment. Look around upon this island; is it not a little paradise? How beautiful are the skies above; how glorious the sun that shines upon it; how soft the breezes that fan its surface; how luxurious the vegetation that clothes its swelling hills and its gentle vales! Was this spot made for peace or war? Is there a heart here that can look around, and not feel that nature whispers a lesson of peace? Does not every bosom whisper peace? Does not common sense teach us peace? What can we gain by strife, but evil? Can it promote our happiness to slay each other like wild beasts? If we are to have war, and blood is to be shed, will the conquering party enjoy their victory, when they are forever to live in sight of the graves of their butchered brethren?