"Well, listen to me. You know I mean well, and I must admit now that I am sorry I tried to carry things with such a high hand, for I had no idea that the captain had a daughter, or that he was so anxious to conceal the fact that he was a privateer; but no power on earth now, not even that of the captain himself, can prevent those devilish sailors from coming here in search of him if he does not go to them, so you had better tell him, in any case, that the ship"s officers and a part of the crew are waiting for him at the tavern known as The Golden Anchor on the quay."
The ship owner hastened off and Segoffin darted into the house to inquire if there was any improvement in Sabine"s condition.
CHAPTER XVIII.
"MY MOTHER"S MURDERER STILL LIVES."
Segoffin had been pacing the hall out of which Sabine"s sitting-room opened for about half an hour with ever-increasing anxiety before Suzanne came out.
"Well, how is mademoiselle?" he asked, anxiously. "Tell me, Suzanne, how is she?"
"A nice question to ask, truly, when your brutality toward that estimable gentleman this morning threw mademoiselle into a frightful nervous spasm."
"I admit that I did very wrong, but she had got over that. M. Yvon told me so when he came out into the garden. What happened afterward to upset her so again?"
"Alas! the one great sorrow of her life has been recalled to her remembrance more vividly than ever!"
"You refer to her poor mother"s death, of course."
"Yes, and she has just been talking to M. Yvon about it. You can judge how painful the conversation must have been to him."
"What do you mean?" cried Segoffin, in alarm. "Is it possible that Mlle.
Sabine knows that terrible secret?"
"No, thank Heaven! she does not, and I sincerely hope she never will."
"I do not understand you then, Suzanne."
"This is what caused all the trouble," said the housekeeper, drawing a paper from her pocket.
"What is that?"
"The morning paper. It contains further details in relation to that famous privateer, Captain l"Endurci. Listen to what it says, and you will then understand the situation."
And opening the paper, Suzanne read the following extract from an article headed, "Further Particulars in Relation to the Famous Corsair, Captain l"Endurci:"
""The captain"s personal appearance is well calculated to increase his prestige, and each and every one of his men would willingly follow him to the death.
""This intrepid corsair is about forty years of age. Though only of medium height, he is remarkably agile and robust; his physiognomy is both virile and expressive; his eagle eye, the imperious carriage of his head, and his resolute bearing all show him to be a man born to command.
His real name and origin is shrouded in mystery, but many persons are of the opinion that he is a native of Brittany, basing the supposition upon the costume he always wears on shipboard. Others think the captain came from some southern province, and that he adopted the Breton costume merely from motives of convenience.
""However that may be, we are sure our readers will peruse with interest a description of the costume this famous corsair always wears on shipboard; in fact, it is even said that he attaches a superst.i.tious importance to the wearing of this garb, which consists of a long black jacket and waistcoat trimmed with small silver b.u.t.tons, a broad orange sash into which his weapons are thrust, wide white linen trousers similar to the _morphs_ worn by the fishermen of Holland and the pilots of the island of Batz, high leggings, and a low, broad-brimmed felt hat.""
After having read this extract the housekeeper remarked: "You see, Segoffin, that this corsair wears a costume which is identical in every respect with that worn by M. Cloarek on the night of madame"s deplorable death."
"Yes; it makes me shudder to think of it," exclaimed Segoffin, interrupting her, "and on reading it, I suppose Mlle. Cloarek fancied she saw in this corsair the mysterious personage who was the cause of her mother"s death."
"Alas! yes, Segoffin, and she said to monsieur, in a sort of frenzy: "Father, my mother"s murderer still lives. Will you not avenge her?" You can imagine M. Cloarek"s feelings. To undeceive his daughter he would have to accuse himself."
"Mademoiselle must have read the papers after M. Yvon"s return, then, I suppose."
"Yes, monsieur came in about eleven o"clock. He looked radiant; my nephew, who was with him, also seemed to be in the best of spirits. "Is my daughter in her room?" asked monsieur, gaily. "I have some good news for her." Though I am no talebearer, there was nothing for me to do but tell him about the altercation you and the worthy merchant had had in the garden, and how much it had terrified mademoiselle."
"Of course, but go on."
"Monsieur ran up to his daughter"s room and found that she had almost entirely recovered from her attack. Soon afterward, Therese brought up the paper as usual, and I, unfortunately, thinking it would divert mademoiselle, gave it to her to read. When she came to the pa.s.sage in which the privateer"s peculiar costume was described, she uttered a terrible cry--But hush! here comes monsieur," exclaimed Suzanne, hastily.
Cloarek, with an expression of the gloomiest despair imprinted on his features, and as pale as death, had just come out of his daughter"s room.
"Go to her, Suzanne, she is asking for you," he said, hoa.r.s.ely. "Come with me, Segoffin."
Segoffin silently followed his employer into his bedroom, where Cloarek, throwing himself into an armchair, buried his face in his hands and groaned aloud.
On beholding this poignant grief, Segoffin felt his own eyes grow moist as he stood silent and motionless beside his master.
"I can not understand how the recollection of that terrible night impressed itself so deeply on that unfortunate child"s memory,"
exclaimed Cloarek, at last. "I shudder still as I think with what an expression of horror she exclaimed, "Father, father, my mother"s murderer still lives." And as I gazed at her in a sort of stupor without replying, she added, with all the energy of intense hatred, "Father, I tell you that the man who killed my mother, the man who killed your wife, still lives. Her murder cries for vengeance, and this man still lives." And for the first time I saw an expression of hatred on my daughter"s gentle face, and I was the object of that hatred. This terrible scene has reopened the wound again and revived my remorse, and yet you know how much I have suffered, and how bitterly I have expiated that momentary madness."
"But the worst thing, after all, is this scheme of Verduron"s, M. Yvon,"
responded Segoffin, after a moment"s silence.
"Yes, it is enough to drive one mad, for if I remain with my daughter the crew is sure to come here."
"That is absolutely certain. You know our men."
"Yes, and Sabine will then learn that her father, Captain l"Endurci, and her mother"s murderer are all one and the same person, and this child, upon whom I have concentrated all my affection for years,--this child who is my only hope and joy and consolation in life,--will feel for me henceforth only aversion and loathing."
Then, after a few moments of gloomy reflection, he murmured, his eyes wild, his lips contracted in a sardonic smile:
"But nonsense! she is rich; she loves an honourable man, who loves her in return. She will still have Suzanne and Segoffin. Instead of loathing me, she shall mourn for me, and, so far as she is concerned, my death shall be enshrouded in the same mystery as my life."
As he spoke Cloarek stepped toward a table on which a pair of pistols were lying; but Segoffin, who had not once taken his eyes off his employer, sprang forward and, seizing the pistols before the captain could reach them, removed the charge and coolly replaced the weapons.
"Wretch!" exclaimed Cloarek, seizing Segoffin by the collar, and shaking him violently, "you shall pay dearly for your audacity."
"Time presses, M. Yvon, and you have more important business on hand than shaking poor old Segoffin. Your time is too precious for that!"
The head gunner"s coolness restored Cloarek to himself, and sinking despondently into a chair, he said, gloomily:
"You are right, I am a fool. What shall I do? My brain seems to be on fire."
"Do you really want to know what I think you had better do?"
"Yes."