The extension provided for by the agent of Thomson & French,at the moment when Morrel expected it least, was to the poorshipowner so decided a stroke of good fortune that he almostdared to believe that fate was at length grown weary ofwasting her spite upon him. The same day he told his wife,Emmanuel, and his daughter all that had occurred; and a rayof hope, if not of tranquillity, returned to the family.Unfortunately, however, Morrel had not only engagements withthe house of Thomson & French, who had shown themselves soconsiderate towards him; and, as he had said, in business hehad correspondents, and not friends. When he thought thematter over, he could by no means account for this generousconduct on the part of Thomson & French towards him; andcould only attribute it to some such selfish argument asthis: - "We had better help a man who owes us nearly300,000 francs, and have those 300,000 francs at the end ofthree months than hasten his ruin, and get only six or eightper cent of our money back again." Unfortunately, whetherthrough envy or stupidity, all Morrel's correspondents didnot take this view; and some even came to a contrarydecision. The bills signed by Morrel were presented at hisoffice with scrupulous exactitude, and, thanks to the delaygranted by the Englishman, were paid by Cocles with equalpunctuality. Cocles thus remained in his accustomedtranquillity. It was Morrel alone who remembered with alarm,that if he had to repay on the 15th the 50,000 francs of M.de Boville, and on the 30th the 32,500 francs of bills, forwhich, as well as the debt due to the inspector of prisons,he had time granted, he must be a ruined man.

The opinion of all the commercial men was that, under thereverses which had successively weighed down Morrel, it wasimpossible for him to remain solvent. Great, therefore, wasthe astonishment when at the end of the month, he cancelledall his obligations with his usual punctuality. Stillconfidence was not restored to all minds, and the generalopinion was that the complete ruin of the unfortunateshipowner had been postponed only until the end of themonth. The month passed, and Morrel made extraordinaryefforts to get in all his resources. Formerly his paper, atany date, was taken with confidence, and was even inrequest. Morrel now tried to negotiate bills at ninety daysonly, and none of the banks would give him credit.Fortunately, Morrel had some funds coming in on which hecould rely; and, as they reached him, he found himself in acondition to meet his engagements when the end of July came.The agent of Thomson & French had not been again seen atMarseilles; the day after, or two days after his visit toMorrel, he had disappeared; and as in that city he had hadno intercourse but with the mayor, the inspector of prisons,and M. Morrel, his departure left no trace except in thememories of these three persons. As to the sailors of thePharaon, they must have found snug berths elsewhere, forthey also had disappeared.

Captain Gaumard, recovered from his illness, had returnedfrom Palma. He delayed presenting himself at Morrel's, butthe owner, hearing of his arrival, went to see him. Theworthy shipowner knew, from Penelon's recital, of thecaptain's brave conduct during the storm, and tried toconsole him. He brought him also the amount of his wages,which Captain Gaumard had not dared to apply for. As hedescended the staircase, Morrel met Penelon, who was goingup. Penelon had, it would seem, made good use of his money,for he was newly clad. When he saw his employer, the worthytar seemed much embarrassed, drew on one side into thecorner of the landing-place, passed his quid from one cheekto the other, stared stupidly with his great eyes, and onlyacknowledged the squeeze of the hand which Morrel as usualgave him by a slight pressure in return. Morrel attributedPenelon's embarrassment to the elegance of his attire; itwas evident the good fellow had not gone to such an expenseon his own account; he was, no doubt, engaged on board someother vessel, and thus his bashfulness arose from the factof his not having, if we may so express ourselves, wornmourning for the Pharaon longer. Perhaps he had come to tellCaptain Gaumard of his good luck, and to offer himemployment from his new master. "Worthy fellows!" saidMorrel, as he went away, "may your new master love you as Iloved you, and be more fortunate than I have been!"

August rolled by in unceasing efforts on the part of Morrelto renew his credit or revive the old. On the 20th of Augustit was known at Marseilles that he had left town in themailcoach, and then it was said that the bills would go toprotest at the end of the month, and that Morrel had goneaway and left his chief clerk Emmanuel, and his cashierCocles, to meet the creditors. But, contrary to allexpectation, when the 31st of August came, the house openedas usual, and Cocles appeared behind the grating of thecounter, examined all bills presented with the usualscrutiny, and, from first to last, paid all with the usualprecision. There came in, moreover, two drafts which M.Morrel had fully anticipated, and which Cocles paid aspunctually as the bills which the shipowner had accepted.All this was incomprehensible, and then, with the tenacitypeculiar to prophets of bad news, the failure was put offuntil the end of September. On the 1st, Morrel returned; hewas awaited by his family with extreme anxiety, for fromthis journey to Paris they hoped great things. Morrel hadthought of Danglars, who was now immensely rich, and hadlain under great obligations to Morrel in former days, sinceto him it was owing that Danglars entered the service of theSpanish banker, with whom he had laid the foundations of hisvast wealth. It was said at this moment that Danglars wasworth from six to eight millions of francs, and hadunlimited credit. Danglars, then, without taking a crownfrom his pocket, could save Morrel; he had but to pass hisword for a loan, and Morrel was saved. Morrel had longthought of Danglars, but had kept away from some instinctivemotive, and had delayed as long as possible availing himselfof this last resource. And Morrel was right, for he returnedhome crushed by the humiliation of a refusal. Yet, on hisarrival, Morrel did not utter a complaint, or say one harshword. He embraced his weeping wife and daughter, pressedEmmanuel's hand with friendly warmth, and then going to hisprivate room on the second floor had sent for Cocles."Then," said the two women to Emmanuel, "we are indeedruined."

It was agreed in a brief council held among them, that Julieshould write to her brother, who was in garrison at Nimes,to come to them as speedily as possible. The poor women feltinstinctively that they required all their strength tosupport the blow that impended. Besides, Maximilian Morrel,though hardly two and twenty, had great influence over hisfather. He was a strong-minded, upright young man. At thetime when he decided on his profession his father had nodesire to choose for him, but had consulted youngMaximilian's taste. He had at once declared for a militarylife, and had in consequence studied hard, passedbrilliantly through the Polytechnic School, and left it assub-lieutenant of the 53d of the line. For a year he hadheld this rank, and expected promotion on the first vacancy.In his regiment Maximilian Morrel was noted for his rigidobservance, not only of the obligations imposed on asoldier, but also of the duties of a man; and he thus gainedthe name of "the stoic." We need hardly say that many ofthose who gave him this epithet repeated it because they hadheard it, and did not even know what it meant. This was theyoung man whom his mother and sister called to their aid tosustain them under the serious trial which they felt theywould soon have to endure. They had not mistaken the gravityof this event, for the moment after Morrel had entered hisprivate office with Cocles, Julie saw the latter leave itpale, trembling, and his features betraying the utmostconsternation. She would have questioned him as he passed byher, but the worthy creature hastened down the staircasewith unusual precipitation, and only raised his hands toheaven and exclaimed, "Oh, mademoiselle, mademoiselle, whata dreadful misfortune! Who could ever have believed it!" Amoment afterwards Julie saw him go up-stairs carrying two orthree heavy ledgers, a portfolio, and a bag of money.

Morrel examined the ledgers, opened the portfolio, andcounted the money. All his funds amounted to 6,000, or 8,000francs, his bills receivable up to the 5th to 4,000 or5,000, which, making the best of everything, gave him 14,000francs to meet debts amounting to 287,500 francs. He had noteven the means for making a possible settlement on account.However, when Morrel went down to his dinner, he appearedvery calm. This calmness was more alarming to the two womenthan the deepest dejection would have been. After dinnerMorrel usually went out and used to take his coffee at thePhocaean club, and read the Semaphore; this day he did notleave the house, but returned to his office.

As to Cocles, he seemed completely bewildered. For part ofthe day he went into the court-yard, seated himself on astone with his head bare and exposed to the blazing sun.Emmanuel tried to comfort the women, but his eloquencefaltered. The young man was too well acquainted with thebusiness of the house, not to feel that a great catastrophehung over the Morrel family. Night came, the two women hadwatched, hoping that when he left his room Morrel would cometo them, but they heard him pass before their door, andtrying to conceal the noise of his footsteps. They listened;he went into his sleeping-room, and fastened the doorinside. Madame Morrel sent her daughter to bed, and half anhour after Julie had retired, she rose, took off her shoes,and went stealthily along the passage, to see through thekeyhole what her husband was doing. In the passage she saw aretreating shadow; it was Julie, who, uneasy herself, hadanticipated her mother. The young lady went towards MadameMorrel.

"He is writing," she said. They had understood each otherwithout speaking. Madame Morrel looked again through thekeyhole, Morrel was writing; but Madame Morrel remarked,what her daughter had not observed, that her husband waswriting on stamped paper. The terrible idea that he waswriting his will flashed across her; she shuddered, and yethad not strength to utter a word. Next day M. Morrel seemedas calm as ever, went into his office as usual, came to hisbreakfast punctually, and then, after dinner, he placed hisdaughter beside him, took her head in his arms, and held herfor a long time against his bosom. In the evening, Julietold her mother, that although he was apparently so calm,she had noticed that her father's heart beat violently. Thenext two days passed in much the same way. On the evening ofthe 4th of September, M. Morrel asked his daughter for thekey of his study. Julie trembled at this request, whichseemed to her of bad omen. Why did her father ask for thiskey which she always kept, and which was only taken from herin childhood as a punishment? The young girl looked atMorrel.

"What have I done wrong, father," she said, "that you shouldtake this key from me?"

"Nothing, my dear," replied the unhappy man, the tearsstarting to his eyes at this simple question, - "nothing,only I want it." Julie made a pretence to feel for the key."I must have left it in my room," she said. And she wentout, but instead of going to her apartment she hastened toconsult Emmanuel. "Do not give this key to your father,"said he, "and to-morrow morning, if possible, do not quithim for a moment." She questioned Emmanuel, but he knewnothing, or would not say what he knew. During the night,between the 4th and 5th of September, Madame Morrel remainedlistening for every sound, and, until three o'clock in themorning, she heard her husband pacing the room in greatagitation. It was three o'clock when he threw himself on thebed. The mother and daughter passed the night together. Theyhad expected Maximilian since the previous evening. At eighto'clock in the morning Morrel entered their chamber. He wascalm; but the agitation of the night was legible in his paleand careworn visage. They did not dare to ask him how he hadslept. Morrel was kinder to his wife, more affectionate tohis daughter, than he had ever been. He could not ceasegazing at and kissing the sweet girl. Julie, mindful ofEmmanuel's request, was following her father when he quittedthe room, but he said to her quickly, - "Remain with yourmother, dearest." Julie wished to accompany him. "I wish youto do so," said he.

This was the first time Morrel had ever so spoken, but hesaid it in a tone of paternal kindness, and Julie did notdare to disobey. She remained at the same spot standing muteand motionless. An instant afterwards the door opened, shefelt two arms encircle her, and a mouth pressed herforehead. She looked up and uttered an exclamation of joy.

"Maximilian, my dearest brother!" she cried. At these wordsMadame Morrel rose, and threw herself into her son's arms."Mother," said the young man, looking alternately at MadameMorrel and her daughter, "what has occurred - what hashappened? Your letter has frightened me, and I have comehither with all speed."

"Julie," said Madame Morrel, making a sign to the young man,"go and tell your father that Maximilian has just arrived."The young lady rushed out of the apartment, but on the firststep of the staircase she found a man holding a letter inhis hand.

"Are you not Mademoiselle Julie Morrel?" inquired the man,with a strong Italian accent.

"Yes, sir," replied Julie with hesitation; "what is yourpleasure? I do not know you."

"Read this letter," he said, handing it to her. Juliehesitated. "It concerns the best interests of your father,"said the messenger.

The young girl hastily took the letter from him. She openedit quickly and read: -

"Go this moment to the Allees de Meillan, enter the houseNo. 15, ask the porter for the key of the room on the fifthfloor, enter the apartment, take from the corner of themantelpiece a purse netted in red silk, and give it to yourfather. It is important that he should receive it beforeeleven o'clock. You promised to obey me implicitly. Rememberyour oath.

"Sinbad the Sailor."

The young girl uttered a joyful cry, raised her eyes, lookedround to question the messenger, but he had disappeared. Shecast her eyes again over the note to peruse it a secondtime, and saw there was a postscript. She read: -

"It is important that you should fulfil this mission inperson and alone. If you go accompanied by any other person,or should any one else go in your place, the porter willreply that he does not know anything about it."

This postscript decreased greatly the young girl'shappiness. Was there nothing to fear? Was there not somesnare laid for her? Her innocence had kept her in ignoranceof the dangers that might assail a young girl of her age.But there is no need to know danger in order to fear it;indeed, it may be observed, that it is usually unknownperils that inspire the greatest terror.

Julie hesitated, and resolved to take counsel. Yet, througha singular impulse, it was neither to her mother nor herbrother that she applied, but to Emmanuel. She hastened downand told him what had occurred on the day when the agent ofThomson & French had come to her father's, related the sceneon the staircase, repeated the promise she had made, andshowed him the letter. "You must go, then, mademoiselle,"said Emmanuel.

"Go there?" murmured Julie.

"Yes; I will accompany you."

"But did you not read that I must be alone?" said Julie.

"And you shall be alone," replied the young man. "I willawait you at the corner of the Rue de Musee, and if you areso long absent as to make me uneasy, I will hasten to rejoinyou, and woe to him of whom you shall have cause to complainto me!"

"Then, Emmanuel?" said the young girl with hesitation, "itis your opinion that I should obey this invitation?"

"Yes. Did not the messenger say your father's safetydepended upon it?"

"But what danger threatens him, then, Emmanuel?" she asked.

Emmanuel hesitated a moment, but his desire to make Juliedecide immediately made him reply.

"Listen," he said; "to-day is the 5th of September, is itnot?"

"Yes."

"To-day, then, at eleven o'clock, your father has nearlythree hundred thousand francs to pay?"

"Yes, we know that."

"Well, then," continued Emmanuel, "we have not fifteenthousand francs in the house."

"What will happen then?"

"Why, if to-day before eleven o'clock your father has notfound someone who will come to his aid, he will be compelledat twelve o'clock to declare himself a bankrupt."

"Oh, come, then, come!" cried she, hastening away with theyoung man. During this time, Madame Morrel had told her soneverything. The young man knew quite well that, after thesuccession of misfortunes which had befallen his father,great changes had taken place in the style of living andhousekeeping; but he did not know that matters had reachedsuch a point. He was thunderstruck. Then, rushing hastilyout of the apartment, he ran up-stairs, expecting to findhis father in his study, but he rapped there in vain.

While he was yet at the door of the study he heard thebedroom door open, turned, and saw his father. Instead ofgoing direct to his study, M. Morrel had returned to hisbed-chamber, which he was only this moment quitting. Morreluttered a cry of surprise at the sight of his son, of whosearrival he was ignorant. He remained motionless on the spot,pressing with his left hand something he had concealed underhis coat. Maximilian sprang down the staircase, and threwhis arms round his father's neck; but suddenly he recoiled,and placed his right hand on Morrel's breast. "Father," heexclaimed, turning pale as death, "what are you going to dowith that brace of pistols under your coat?"

"Oh, this is what I feared!" said Morrel.

"Father, father, in heaven's name," exclaimed the young man,"what are these weapons for?"

"Maximilian," replied Morrel, looking fixedly at his son,"you are a man, and a man of honor. Come, and I will explainto you."

And with a firm step Morrel went up to his study, whileMaximilian followed him, trembling as he went. Morrel openedthe door, and closed it behind his son; then, crossing theanteroom, went to his desk on which he placed the pistols,and pointed with his finger to an open ledger. In thisledger was made out an exact balance-sheet of his affair's.Morrel had to pay, within half an hour, 287,500 francs. Allhe possessed was 15,257 francs. "Read!" said Morrel.

The young man was overwhelmed as he read. Morrel said not aword. What could he say? What need he add to such adesperate proof in figures? "And have you done all that ispossible, father, to meet this disastrous result?" asked theyoung man, after a moment's pause. "I have," replied Morrel.

"You have no money coming in on which you can rely?"

"None."

"You have exhausted every resource?"

"All."

"And in half an hour," said Maximilian in a gloomy voice,"our name is dishonored!"

"Blood washes out dishonor," said Morrel.

"You are right, father; I understand you." Then extendinghis hand towards one of the pistols, he said, "There is onefor you and one for me - thanks!" Morrel caught his hand."Your mother - your sister! Who will support them?" Ashudder ran through the young man's frame. "Father," hesaid, "do you reflect that you are bidding me to live?"

"Yes, I do so bid you," answered Morrel, "it is your duty.You have a calm, strong mind, Maximilian. Maximilian, youare no ordinary man. I make no requests or commands; I onlyask you to examine my position as if it were your own, andthen judge for yourself."

The young man reflected for a moment, then an expression ofsublime resignation appeared in his eyes, and with a slowand sad gesture he took off his two epaulets, the insigniaof his rank. "Be it so, then, my father," he said, extendinghis hand to Morrel, "die in peace, my father; I will live."Morrel was about to cast himself on his knees before hisson, but Maximilian caught him in his arms, and those twonoble hearts were pressed against each other for a moment."You know it is not my fault," said Morrel. Maximiliansmiled. "I know, father, you are the most honorable man Ihave ever known."

"Good, my son. And now there is no more to be said; go andrejoin your mother and sister."

"My father," said the young man, bending his knee, "blessme!" Morrel took the head of his son between his two hands,drew him forward, and kissing his forehead several timessaid, "Oh, yes, yes, I bless you in my own name, and in thename of three generations of irreproachable men, who saythrough me, `The edifice which misfortune has destroyed,providence may build up again.' On seeing me die such adeath, the most inexorable will have pity on you. To you,perhaps, they will accord the time they have refused to me.Then do your best to keep our name free from dishonor. Go towork, labor, young man, struggle ardently and courageously;live, yourself, your mother and sister, with the most rigideconomy, so that from day to day the property of those whomI leave in your hands may augment and fructify. Reflect howglorious a day it will be, how grand, how solemn, that dayof complete restoration, on which you will say in this veryoffice, `My father died because he could not do what I havethis day done; but he died calmly and peaceably, because indying he knew what I should do.'"

"My father, my father!" cried the young man, "why should younot live?"

"If I live, all would be changed; if I live, interest wouldbe converted into doubt, pity into hostility; if I live I amonly a man who has broken his word, failed in hisengagements - in fact, only a bankrupt. If, on thecontrary, I die, remember, Maximilian, my corpse is that ofan honest but unfortunate man. Living, my best friends wouldavoid my house; dead, all Marseilles will follow me in tearsto my last home. Living, you would feel shame at my name;dead, you may raise your head and say, `I am the son of himyou killed, because, for the first time, he has beencompelled to break his word.'"

The young man uttered a groan, but appeared resigned.

"And now," said Morrel, "leave me alone, and endeavor tokeep your mother and sister away."

"Will you not see my sister once more?" asked Maximilian. Alast but final hope was concealed by the young man in theeffect of this interview, and therefore he had suggested it.Morrel shook his head. "I saw her this morning, and bade heradieu."

"Have you no particular commands to leave with me, myfather?" inquired Maximilian in a faltering voice.

"Yes; my son, and a sacred command."

"Say it, my father."

"The house of Thomson & French is the only one who, fromhumanity, or, it may be, selfishness - it is not for me toread men's hearts - has had any pity for me. Its agent, whowill in ten minutes present himself to receive the amount ofa bill of 287,500 francs, I will not say granted, butoffered me three months. Let this house be the first repaid,my son, and respect this man."

"Father, I will," said Maximilian.

"And now, once more, adieu," said Morrel. "Go, leave me; Iwould be alone. You will find my will in the secretary in mybedroom."

The young man remained standing and motionless, having butthe force of will and not the power of execution.

"Hear me, Maximilian," said his father. "Suppose I was asoldier like you, and ordered to carry a certain redoubt,and you knew I must be killed in the assault, would you notsay to me, as you said just now, `Go, father; for you aredishonored by delay, and death is preferable to shame!'"

"Yes, yes," said the young man, "yes;" and once againembracing his father with convulsive pressure, he said, "Beit so, my father."

And he rushed out of the study. When his son had left him,Morrel remained an instant standing with his eyes fixed onthe door; then putting forth his arm, he pulled the bell.After a moment's interval, Cocles appeared.

It was no longer the same man - the fearful revelations ofthe three last days had crushed him. This thought - thehouse of Morrel is about to stop payment - bent him to theearth more than twenty years would otherwise have done.

"My worthy Cocles," said Morrel in a tone impossible todescribe, "do you remain in the ante-chamber. When thegentleman who came three months ago - the agent of Thomson& French - arrives, announce his arrival to me." Coclesmade no reply; he made a sign with his head, went into theanteroom, and seated himself. Morrel fell back in his chair,his eyes fixed on the clock; there were seven minutes left,that was all. The hand moved on with incredible rapidity, heseemed to see its motion.

What passed in the mind of this man at the supreme moment ofhis agony cannot be told in words. He was stillcomparatively young, he was surrounded by the loving care ofa devoted family, but he had convinced himself by a courseof reasoning, illogical perhaps, yet certainly plausible,that he must separate himself from all he held dear in theworld, even life itself. To form the slightest idea of hisfeelings, one must have seen his face with its expression ofenforced resignation and its tear-moistened eyes raised toheaven. The minute hand moved on. The pistols were loaded;he stretched forth his hand, took one up, and murmured hisdaughter's name. Then he laid it down seized his pen, andwrote a few words. It seemed to him as if he had not taken asufficient farewell of his beloved daughter. Then he turnedagain to the clock, counting time now not by minutes, but byseconds. He took up the deadly weapon again, his lips partedand his eyes fixed on the clock, and then shuddered at theclick of the trigger as he cocked the pistol. At this momentof mortal anguish the cold sweat came forth upon his brow, apang stronger than death clutched at his heart-strings. Heheard the door of the staircase creak on its hinges - theclock gave its warning to strike eleven - the door of hisstudy opened; Morrel did not turn round - he expected thesewords of Cocles, "The agent of Thomson & French."

He placed the muzzle of the pistol between his teeth.Suddenly he heard a cry - it was his daughter's voice. Heturned and saw Julie. The pistol fell from his hands. "Myfather!" cried the young girl, out of breath, and half deadwith joy - "saved, you are saved!" And she threw herselfinto his arms, holding in her extended hand a red, nettedsilk purse.

"Saved, my child!" said Morrel; "what do you mean?"

"Yes, saved - saved! See, see!" said the young girl.

Morrel took the purse, and started as he did so, for a vagueremembrance reminded him that it once belonged to himself.At one end was the receipted bill for the 287,000 francs,and at the other was a diamond as large as a hazel-nut, withthese words on a small slip of parchment: - Julie's Dowry.

Morrel passed his hand over his brow; it seemed to him adream. At this moment the clock struck eleven. He felt as ifeach stroke of the hammer fell upon his heart. "Explain, mychild," he said, "Explain, my child," he said, "explain - where did you find this purse?"

"In a house in the Allees de Meillan, No. 15, on the cornerof a mantelpiece in a small room on the fifth floor."

"But," cried Morrel, "this purse is not yours!" Julie handedto her father the letter she had received in the morning.

"And did you go alone?" asked Morrel, after he had read it.

"Emmanuel accompanied me, father. He was to have waited forme at the corner of the Rue de Musee, but, strange to say,he was not there when I returned."

"Monsieur Morrel!" exclaimed a voice on the stairs. - "Monsieur Morrel!"

"It is his voice!" said Julie. At this moment Emmanuelentered, his countenance full of animation and joy. "ThePharaon!" he cried; "the Pharaon!"

"What - what - the Pharaon! Are you mad, Emmanuel? Youknow the vessel is lost."

"The Pharaon, sir - they signal the Pharaon! The Pharaon isentering the harbor!" Morrel fell back in his chair, hisstrength was failing him; his understanding weakened by suchevents, refused to comprehend such incredible, unheard-of,fabulous facts. But his son came in. "Father," criedMaximilian, "how could you say the Pharaon was lost? Thelookout has signalled her, and they say she is now cominginto port."

"My dear friends," said Morrel, "if this be so, it must be amiracle of heaven! Impossible, impossible!"

But what was real and not less incredible was the purse heheld in his hand, the acceptance receipted - the splendiddiamond.

"Ah, sir," exclaimed Cocles, "what can it mean? - thePharaon?"

"Come, dear ones," said Morrel, rising from his seat, "letus go and see, and heaven have pity upon us if it be falseintelligence!" They all went out, and on the stairs metMadame Morrel, who had been afraid to go up into the study.In a moment they were at the Cannebiere. There was a crowdon the pier. All the crowd gave way before Morrel. "ThePharaon, the Pharaon!" said every voice.

And, wonderful to see, in front of the tower of Saint-Jean,was a ship bearing on her stern these words, printed inwhite letters, "The Pharaon, Morrel & Son, of Marseilles."She was the exact duplicate of the other Pharaon, andloaded, as that had been, with cochineal and indigo. Shecast anchor, clued up sails, and on the deck was CaptainGaumard giving orders, and good old Penelon making signalsto M. Morrel. To doubt any longer was impossible; there wasthe evidence of the senses, and ten thousand persons whocame to corroborate the testimony. As Morrel and his sonembraced on the pier-head, in the presence and amid theapplause of the whole city witnessing this event, a man,with his face half-covered by a black beard, and who,concealed behind the sentry-box, watched the scene withdelight, uttered these words in a low tone: "Be happy, nobleheart, be blessed for all the good thou hast done and wiltdo hereafter, and let my gratitude remain in obscurity likeyour good deeds."

And with a smile expressive of supreme content, he left hishiding-place, and without being observed, descended one ofthe flights of steps provided for debarkation, and hailingthree times, shouted "Jacopo, Jacopo, Jacopo!" Then a launchcame to shore, took him on board, and conveyed him to ayacht splendidly fitted up, on whose deck he sprung with theactivity of a sailor; thence he once again looked towardsMorrel, who, weeping with joy, was shaking hands mostcordially with all the crowd around him, and thanking with alook the unknown benefactor whom he seemed to be seeking inthe skies. "And now," said the unknown, "farewell kindness,humanity, and gratitude! Farewell to all the feelings thatexpand the heart! I have been heaven's substitute torecompense the good - now the god of vengeance yields to mehis power to punish the wicked!" At these words he gave asignal, and, as if only awaiting this signal, the yachtinstantly put out to sea.