she merits
perhaps, for, in spite of her love for this invisible husband, she
appears to me madly tender with the buccaneer and that other brute, the
cannibal. Well, what does it matter if it is my caprice to devote myself
to this little woman? I am surely my own master; yes! but if, on the
other hand, I do not leave this place? Suppose the Caribbean mixes
himself in the affair, this would spoil all; it is clear that I shall be
killed like a dog by this thick-headed Belgian. How, then, can I escape
such a catastrophe? Say at once to the man with the dagger that I am not
the duke? This might save me, perhaps, but no! this would be cowardice,
and useless cowardice; for, to prevent my alarming the house, this
beer-drinker would dispatch me at once. Yes, yes, in spite of my word as
a gentleman not to seek to escape, he presses near me. Zounds! this man
with his dagger is absurd! Bah! his dagger! he can only kill me once,
after all. Come, then, courage! courage! Croustillac! and above all do
not deliberate--this brings you sorrow; you never commit greater
stupidities or more tremendous mistakes than when you deliberate.
Commend yourself to your lucky star, shut your eyes, as usual, and go
ahead.

Reassured by this excellent logic, the chevalier said aloud, "Well, sir,
as we must absolutely pass the house in order to get out of this, let us
go on."

"Sir," said the colonel, after a moment's reflection, "you have given me
your word as a gentleman not to escape."

"Yes, sir."

"But your people will wish to free you?"

"My life is in your hands, sir; you have my word; I can do no more."

"That is true, my lord; but then, in your interest, warn your slaves
that the slightest act against me, on their part, will cost your life,
for I have sworn, also, that I will carry you away, dead or living."

"It will not be my fault, sir, if you do not keep your word; come on."
And the chevalier and the colonel advanced toward the house.

Rutler held the arm of Croustillac under his left arm, and had his hand
constantly on his dagger; not that he doubted the word of his prisoner,
but the slaves at Devil's Cliff might wish to rescue their master.

Croustillac and Rutler were not more than a few steps from the house
when from an obscure path a woman advanced dressed in white. The colonel
stopped, pressed firmly the arm of his prisoner, and said aloud, "Who is
this? My lord, warn this woman not to cry out."

"It is Blue Beard! I am lo