“To-morrow evening I can see the sun set; to-day I would rather spend my time in guessing your riddles, watchman.” During this conversation, the syndic of the overseers had not lost sight of the vessel, which continued to beat about, evidently waiting for a signal. Although the appearance of this vessel was suspicious, Peyrou hesitated to give the alarm on the coast by kindling the fire. To set the whole seashore in excitement unnecessarily was a dangerous precedent, because some other time, in case of real danger, the signal might be taken for a false alarm. While the watchman was absorbed in these reflections, the Bohemian looked around him uneasily; he was trying to discover some traces of the eagle, as from the rock where he had been squatting, he had seen Brilliant alight in this direction. For a moment he thought of getting rid of Peyrou, but he soon renounced this idea. The watchman, strong and well-armed, was on his guard. Peyrou, notwithstanding the anger that the presence of the vagabond inspired in him, feared to see him descend again to the castle of Maison-Forte, as Raimond V. did not suspect this wretch. Besides, seeing his wicked designs discovered, the villain might attempt some diabolical scheme before he left the country. However, it was impossible to abandon his sentry-box under such serious circumstances, in order to warn the baron. Night was approaching, and the Bohemian was still there. Happily, the moon was almost full; in spite of the densely piled clouds, her light was bright enough to reveal all the manoeuvres of the chebec. The Bohemian, his arms crossed on his breast, surveyed Peyrou, with imperturbable coolness. “You see the sun has set,” said this old seaman, “the night will be cold; you had better return to Maison-Forte.” “I intend to spend the night here,” replied the vagabond. The watchman, made furious by the remark, rose, and walking up to the Bohemian with a threatening air, said: “And by Our Lady, I swear that you shall descend to the beach this instant!” “And suppose I do not wish to go.” “I will kill you.” The Bohemian shrugged his shoulders. “You will not kill me, watchman, and I will remain.” Peyrou raised his pistol, and exclaimed: “Take care!” “Would you kill a defenceless man, who has never done you any harm? I defy you,” said the vagabond, without moving from the spot. The watchman dropped his arm; he revolted at the thought of murder. He replaced his pistol in his belt, and walked back and forth in violent agitation. He found himself in a singular position,--he could not rid himself of this persistent villain by fear or force; he must then resolve to pass the night on guard. He resigned himself to this last alternative, hoping that next day some one might appear, and he would be able to rid himself of the Bohemian. “Very well, let it be,” said he, with a forced smile. “Although I have not invited you to be my companion, we will pass the night by the side of each other.”