The next day Reine sent for the Bohemian in order to return the portrait to him. He had disappeared, the flight of the pigeon demanding his attention. Reine had the courage to break the crystal vase, and to burn the miniature on vellum, but she had not the courage to destroy the portrait or the rosary that she found in her oratory. In spite of her struggles, in spite of her prayers, in spite of her resolve to forget the events of the day in the rocks of Ollioules, the memory of the unknown took possession of her heart more and more. The songs of the Bohemian on the young emir, whom he called Erebus, had profoundly moved her feelings. Those contrasts of courage and kindness, of power and pity, recalled to her mind the singular combination of audacity and timidity which had impressed her in the scene which transpired in the gorges of Ollioules. She counted on the restitution of the portrait as the first step to another conversation with the Singer about the emir. Unfortunately, the Bohemian had disappeared. To the great astonishment of the inmates of Maison-Forte, he did not return in the evening. Raimond V., who liked him, ordered his men who guarded the bridge to be prepared to lower it when the Bohemian appeared, notwithstanding the regulations of the castle. Morning came, and still the vagabond was absent. They supposed that, after drinking, he had fallen asleep in some tavern of La Ciotat. They were still more astonished not to find the two pigeons in the cage where he kept them ordinarily closely confined. Greatly disturbed by these strange happenings, which had been transpiring for some time, Reine, half through curiosity and half through conviction, finally yielded to the entreaties of Stephanette, who had the most wonderful ideas of the watchman’s abilities and knowledge, and decided to consult the old seaman on the mysteries of which Maison-Forte was the theatre. So many extraordinary things had been told of Master Peyrou’s predictions, that Reine, although little given to superstition, felt the influence of the general opinion. She was going to interrogate Peyrou, when, to her amazement, he accosted her with a question about the Bohemian. “Mademoiselle, did the vagabond enter Maison-Forte last night?” said Peyrou, quickly. “No; my father is much concerned about him. They think that he must have spent the night drinking in some tavern in La Ciotat.” “That would be astonishing,” added Stephanette, “for the poor fellow seems to be of exemplary sobriety.” “This poor fellow,” exclaimed the watchman, “is a spy of the pirates.” “He!” exclaimed Reine. “Yes, he, himself, mademoiselle; a chebec was cruising a part of the night in view from the gulf, waiting, no doubt, for a signal from this vagabond to disembark.”