Neither Mabel nor Madame Coulancourt, when they retired to rest that night, undressed, for they fully expected to be roused by the sounds of contention from Palos Creek. Mabel remained with her mother, and both, leaving their lamp burning, lay down as they were. Just before midnight the loud, dull sound of a heavy gun in the direction of the creek caused both ladies to jump up and listen; they threw up their window, which looked in the direction of the firing, and then came plainly enough the sounds of discharges of musketry, and the loud boom of the twelve-pound carronade. “Oh, Heavens! how quick the discharges of musketry are,” said Mabel, trembling all over; “what a terrible fight they must have!” “O God, protect those we love!” fervently uttered both mother and daughter; “and inspire them with mercy to their enemies. It’s frightful to think of men defacing God’s own image by slaying each other, and without one real feeling of individual animosity.” “Ah, mother, rulers of states have a terrible responsibility to answer for, when they arm their poor subjects to slay and destroy other human beings, from some paltry political feeling. There goes the great gun again!” A knock at the door interrupted the conversation. “’Tis I, Mabel,” said the voice of Julia. Mabel ran and opened the door; Julia was dressed. “Mon Dieu!” said Mademoiselle Plessis, “what firing down at the creek; my father has been writing this half-hour. Sergeant Perrin has gone down to the sea-shore, he could not resist; he has left only two men on guard. My father is sure they will either cut out the ships or burn them; if they burn them, we shall see the glare in the heavens. My father is going to an old fisherman, who would risk his life for him, to get him to take out a letter and a packet of important papers to give Lieutenant Thornton, in which he has stated his plan of escape, so that the lieutenant may co-operate if practicable. The old fisherman will steal out in his boat, and, if possible, deliver the packet; if not, he will bring it safe back. To-morrow my father will make you fully acquainted with what he has done. He has gone out by a door, left unguarded by the departure of the men, and will bring us back word how the contest ends.” It was, in truth, a night of deep anxiety to all; and not till long after the firing had ceased did any of the inhabitants of the château retire to rest. Monsieur Plessis, however, returned before Sergeant Perrin.