"I see you are surprised. Yes? I was suddenly ordered to sail in le Dauphin, and report to your good Governor, Bienville. A most sturdy soldier from all report. Heaven send us a sharp campaign, I am weary of these puny quarrels. We will have brave days in the colonies." This open-hearted way about him struck a new terror to my heart; I could face his sword but not his confidence. His cheeks glowed with martial enthusiasm and I almost caught again the hot lust of battle. "And Agnes, with her little sister, is at the inn. Yes," he continued, noting me step back a pace in protest, "it is a rude life enough for tender women, but they come of stock that fears no danger, and it's better there than at the Court of Louis." I hardly heard the man. To meet his wife day after day, to associate on terms of cordial intimacy with this honorable gentleman, to enjoy his confidence, my heart filled the while with guilt too strong to conquer--the thing was torture not to be endured. "Come with me to the inn; let us get the ladies and their luggage aboard. Agnes will be glad to meet you; she says she has great curiosity to see what you are like." I excused myself most lamely upon the plea of some duty to be performed. "Ah well, on board then; she will have abundant time, aye, abundant time." From a dark place near the inn door, I watched their departure. Poor weakling that I was, I could not deny myself. The Chevalier, with Agnes and another lady, took their way toward the waiting boat, a flickering lanthorn being borne in their front. His words, "Agnes will be glad to meet with you; she has great curiosity to see what you are like," recurred again and again. So she had deceived him, and he knew nothing of our meetings? Ah, well do these women manage, and we are ever dupes. And I, who all my life had detested small deceptions, found myself heartily applauding this--was it not for my sake. This secret was _ours_--_mine_ and _hers_; the bond which we two held in common apart from all the world. A sweet reflection. The little weaknesses of women are very precious to their object, and if the deluded one knows it not, why where's the harm? Small comfort came to me, however, for all the while conscience, like a burning nettle in the side, gave the lie to each excuse. All that night I paced about, and up and down. At length came gray dawn, but not decision. An early fisherman disposed his net upon the beach. I watched him long in silence, then abruptly asked, so fiercely that he dropped his work: "Old man, do you know of any other vessel sailing soon for the American Colonies in the South?" "Aye, sir, there's a brig fitting out at Boulogne-sur-Mer for the Spanish seas, to sail in a week or thereabout. But, sir," the old fellow looked cautiously about to assure himself that no one else could hear, "they say un-Christian things of that brigand crew. She bodes no good." "A freebooter?"