It was in sullen and half resentful mood that Alphonse D'Erlach parted from his superior at the gates of _La Caroline_. Not that he felt any chagrin because of an outraged self-esteem, on account of his rejected counsels. His mortification and annoyance arose from his vexation at leaving a man in the hands of his enemies, whom he could not persuade of his danger, and who was, by this very proceeding, depriving himself of the only means with which he may have safely combated their hostility. It was probably with a justifiable sense of his own efficiency, that D'Erlach felt how necessary was his presence in the garrison at this juncture. He was quite familiar with the vanity of Laudonniere, his several weaknesses of character, and the facility with which he might be deluded by the selfish and the artful. But he had counselled him in vain; and it was with a feeling somewhat allied to scorn, that he was taught to see that his superior, having hitherto regarded him with something more than friendship--as a favorite indeed--had now, in consequence of the most important services, begun to look upon him somewhat in the light of a rival. We have witnessed the last interview between them. We are already in possession of the events which followed the absence of the lieutenant; events which positively would not have taken place, had not the scheme proved successful for procuring his absence from the fortress. Laudonniere's conscience smote him with a sense of his ingratitude, as the flowing plumes of D'Erlach disappeared amidst the distant umbrage; but he had no misgivings of that danger which the prescient thought of his lieutenant had described as already threatening. He had sufficient time allowed him to meditate equally upon his own blindness and the foresight of the youth, while his mutineers, for fifteen days kept him a close prisoner on board his own brigantine!