“I found myself at the rising of the sun lying by the side of a hedge. I was covered with blood. “For some moments I could remember nothing, then all returned to my memory. I returned home, avoiding the sight of every one. “I discovered, as I entered, that my Maltese cross was lost. Perhaps it had been taken away from me in the struggle. “I found Peyrou, who was waiting for me with my horses. I arrived here.” [Some pages are wanting in this place.] “... and she is no more. “He lies by her side in the same tomb. The idea of murder pursues me. I am doubly criminal. “My entire life will not suffice to expiate this murder, and...” The rest of this page was wanting. The last letter which the casket contained was a letter addressed to Peyrou by a bargemaster in the neighbourhood of Aiguemortes five years after the events which we have just recorded, and the same year, no doubt, of the abduction of Erebus by the pirates on the coast of Languedoc. Peyrou, who was then serving on board the galleys of religion with the commander, was in the secret of this strange and bloody tragedy. The following letter was addressed to Malta, to which place he had followed the commander, who, five years after these fatal events had transpired, was still unwilling to enter France. _To M. Bernard Peyrou, Overseer-Patron of Our Lady of Seven Sorrows_. “My dear Peyrou:--Three days ago a great calamity occurred. A pirate galley made a descent on the unguarded coast. “The pirates put all to fire and sword, and carried off into slavery all the inhabitants upon whom they could fasten their chains. I hardly know how to tell you the rest of this misfortune. The woman Agniel and the child that you confided to her care have disappeared, no doubt massacred, or carried away captives by these pirates. I went into her house, and everything there showed marks of violence. Alas! I must tell you, there remained no doubt that the woman and child had shared the fate of the other inhabitants of this unfortunate village. We can hardly hope that the child was able to endure the fatigues and hardships of the voyage. I send you the only thing that could be found in the house, the picture of the child, which, in obedience to your order, the woman Agniel had taken to Montpellier, where the portrait had been executed about a month before. I saw the child quite recently, and I can assure you that it is an excellent likeness. Alas! it is, perhaps, all that remains of him now. I send this letter directly to Malta by the tartan _St. Cecile_, so that it may reach you safely. “P. S. In case the child is recovered, I inform you that there is a Maltese cross tattooed on his arm.” To complete the explanation of the tragedy, it remains to be said that, although Pog--the Count de Montreuil--was dangerously wounded, he retained sufficient strength and presence of mind to keep the events of that fatal night a profound secret.