Suddenly Pierre des Anbiez stood for a moment petrified, then, without uttering a word, quickly stepped back, seized the arm of the Chevalier de Berrol, and pointed to Pog and Erebus, with a gesture of terror. Notwithstanding the change produced by years in the countenance of Pog, the commander recognised in him the Count de Montreuil, the husband of Emilie, the man whom he believed he had killed, and whose portrait he had preserved as an expiation of his crime. “Have the dead come back from the grave?” said he, in a low voice, recoiling and dragging Honorât with him as Pog advanced. The Chevalier de Berrol was ignorant of all that pertained to that terrible tragedy, but he felt a secret horror, less at the appearance of the two pirates than at the evident fright of the commander, whose intrepidity was so well known. Then, as if to render the solemn scene still more awful, the tempest increased in violence, and the thunder grew louder and more frequent. Pog stopped. “Do you know me? Do you know me?” said he to the commander. “If you are not a ghost, I know you,” replied the commander, fixing a look of amazement upon the husband of Emilie. “Do you remember the unhappy woman whose murderer you were?” “I remember, I remember, I accuse myself.” And the commander struck his breast in the act of contrition. At these words, uttered in a low voice by Pierre des Anbiez, Erebus, whose countenance expressed the rage of desperation, raised his sword, and started to throw himself upon the commander. Pog restrained him with a firm hand, and said to him: “Not yet.” Erebus rested the point of his sword on the ground, and raised his eyes to heaven. “You owe me a bloody reparation,” said Pog. “My life belongs to you. I shall not lift my sword against you,” replied the commander, bowing his head upon his breast. “You have accepted the combat. I have your word. Here is your adversary,” and he pointed to Erebus. “Here is mine,” and he pointed to Honorât. “Take up your sword, then,” cried the Chevalier do Berrol, who wished at any cost to put an end to a scene which, in spite of himself, chilled him with horror. He advanced toward Pog. “They first, we afterward,” answered Pog. “This instant, this instant! Take up your sword!” cried Honorât. Pog, addressing Pierre des Anbiez, said, in an imperious tone: “Order your second to await the result of your fight with the young captain.” “Chevalier, I pray you to wait,” said the commander, with resignation. “Defend your life, murderer!” cried Erebus, rushing upon Pierre des Anbiez with uplifted sword. “But this is a child!” said the commander, looking at his adversary with a sort of contemptuous compassion. “Your mother! Your mother!” whispered Pog to Erebus. “Yes, a child, the child of those whom you have murdered,” cried the unfortunate youth, striking the commander in the face with the breadth of his sword.