"Yes, friend sailor." "Do you remember them for six years?" "La! no woman can remember for six years," said Doome. "I think _you_ could, Mistress," said the sailor. And thereupon the stout little Doome blushed and curtsied. Meanwhile the bride was thinking of the young Frenchman, and how she could keep her secret, with half the town at the house and about it, as there would be in another half-hour. She thought more of the young stranger every moment, and especially when she gazed upon her future,--which seemed to grow more disagreeable each time she looked at it. The young sailor, keeping his eyes away from Bertha,--who set to work drawing a huge mug of beer, in which piece of hospitality Jodoque hoveringly helped her,--and addressing himself to Doome, said,-- "Do you know, I was nearly snapped up by a shark some months ago?" With a sympathetic shudder the little woman replied, "The shark was doubly cruel--who could--who could take out of the world so--so fine a young man!" "Ah! I wish he had!" "Wish he had?" "Yes,--his teeth wouldn't have been half so sharp as the teeth biting away at my heart now!" "Dear!" "Have you ever had a lover?" Here the little woman laughed outright. A lover! She could have honestly answered, "Yes," if the handsome sailor had asked her if she had had several score. _A_ lover, indeed! "Ah! well, suppose you only had one, when you were a poor girl, and he left you, what then?" "Oh, I'd kill him first, and cry myself dead afterwards." "Well, _my_ sweetheart has gone from me." "What! what!--given _you_ up for _any one_?" "Yes, and--and--I don't think he's my master,--unless it's in dollars." "Ah!--And who saved you from the shark?" "A young French officer,--bless him! He harpooned my sealy friend, and found a friend for life,--though it a'n't much a poor sailor-fellow can do for an officer. And, though we're at war with the French, I'd be hanged sooner than fire at his ship." Here Bertha, assisted by Jodoque, set the big jug down upon the table with a bang. And here, too, something fell down in a neighboring room,--precisely as though a person, journeying in a dark chamber, had upset a heavy wooden chair. The noise sent Doome right into the sailor's arms, and also sent Jodoque right behind Bertha, who turned pale. "There's some one in the room," said Jodoque. "No, no!" said Bertha--"'tis poor aunt's room; no one goes there. It's only the rats,--that's all,--only the rats." For a stranger, the sailor showed a great deal of curiosity; for he turned very red, and said, "Suppose you look and see." "Oh, no, no! Never mind. 'Tis only rats. No one ever goes into that room. My dear, dear guardian died in that room." "Yes, Mistress," said the sailor, "but rats don't throw down chairs and tables." "No, surely no!" said Jodoque.