ing folds of this costume would have served as a model for the
drapery of a statue. With the exception of the neck, right arm naked to
the shoulder, and the left leg, this cotton garment enveloped the
Caribbean completely; on his wrist he had bracelets of carracolis also
incrusted with green stones; his leg was half hidden by a kind of sandal
made of bands of cotton stuff of a vivid color and very picturesque.

Angela and Youmaeale, for this was he, were walking slowly, and came
directly toward the window from the shadow of which the Gascon watched
them. A pink girdle about the beautiful figure of the widow confined a
long robe of white muslin; her blond curls fell around her fresh and
youthful face, which the adventurer had not seen before by day. He could
not refrain from admiring her white and clear complexion, her rosy and
transparent cheeks, her eyes so limpid and blue.

The evening before, Angela had appeared to Croustillac in brilliant
apparel, and disturbed by the strange confidences of Blue Beard and the
buccaneer, the admiration of the chevalier was mixed with distrust,
impatience and fear, and he had been more alarmed than touched by the
beauty of Angela; but when he saw her in the morning so simply pretty,
he experienced a profound emotion; he was moved; he forgot Devil's Cliff
and the cannibal, and thought only of the beautiful creature before him.
Love, yes, true love took possession suddenly of the chevalier's heart
just before so little in love. Though the growth of this sudden passion
was so rapid and instantaneous, it was none the less sincere.

Doubtless the evening before, Croustillac had suffered from too much
agitation, too sudden astonishment, too strange preoccupations, to
really appreciate Blue Beard; refreshed by a night's sleep, the past
seemed like a dream and Angela appeared as if for the first time to him;
admiring the supple figure outlined by the perfect fit of her white
muslin robe, he forgot the brocaded dress studded with precious stones
with which he was so impressed the preceding evening. He sought vainly
to discover, in the ingenuous and charming features which he now beheld
the diabolical smiles of the singular woman who had made such sinister
pleasantries concerning her three deceased husbands. In fact, poor
Croustillac was in love. Perhaps it was he and not Blue Beard who had
changed; but with his new love came all kinds of cruel jealousy.

Seeing Angela and Youmaeale walking t