“I was sure of it, you are a pirate. That chebec is waiting for your instructions, or your signal to approach the coast or retire from it. Your rage is great to see all your wicked designs discovered, you villain!” said the watchman. “Eblis touched me with his invisible wingt so that I was about to forget the only means of repairing everything,” suddenly cried the Bohemian. With one joyous bound he disappeared from the astonished eyes of the watchman, and hastily descended the precipitous road which led to the shore. CHAPTER XX. THE SACRIFICE The night passed without another incident. At the rising of the sun the chebec was no longer in sight. Peyrou waited with impatience the arrival of the young seaman who was accustomed to relieve his watch. He was anxious to warn Raimond V. of the wicked designs he attributed to the Bohemian. About two o’clock, Peyrou was astonished to see Mile, des Anbiez, accompanied by Stephanette. Reine approached him with evident embarrassment. Without sharing the superstitious ideas of the inhabitants of the gulf, in reference to the watchman on Cape l’Aigle, she felt irresistibly impelled to consult him upon a subject which she could not think of without sadness. The young girl had received new evidences of the remembrance cherished by Erebus, through the same unknown and mysterious way. All her efforts, and all of Stephanette’s, had proved unavailing in discovering the source of these strange communications. Through an unpardonable obstinacy, and a foolish love of the marvellous, Reine had concealed everything from her father and Honorât. Honorât had left Maison-Forte, in a fit of jealousy as painful as it was unreasonable. On the evening of the day the overseers of the port held their session, Reine, as she knelt before her praying-desk, had found a rosary of sandalwood of the most marvellous workmanship. The clasp by which it was to be attached to her belt again bore the enamelled imprint of the little dove of which we have spoken,--the symbol of the remembrance and the love of the unknown. Since the singing of the Bohemian, Reine’s imagination, excited beyond degree, had indulged in a thousand dreams concerning the adventurous life of the young emir, as the vagabond had named him. Either by design or chance, the singer had left his guzla in Reine’s apartment, after the departure of Honorât de Berrol. The young girl, curious to see the face of the unknown again, took the guitar and opened the medallion, and, to her great surprise, the portrait, insecurely fastened, came off in her hands. Dame Dulceline entered. Reine blushed, closed the medallion and hid the portrait in her bosom, intending to restore it to its place. Evening came, and Stephanette, without informing her mistress, returned the guitar to the Bohemian. The lid of the medallion was fastened, and neither the singer nor the servant discovered the absence of the picture.