eaven, at least look things in the face, if I
accept," said the duke, taking both hands of Croustillac in his own.
"You must conduct me and my wife on board the Chameleon; we will hoist
sail and will be saved."

"All right, your highness, that is how I like to hear you speak!"

"Yes, we shall be saved, but you, unhappy man, you will return on the
frigate with Chemerant, and when you are brought face to face with my
friends, your ruse will be discovered and you will be lost!"

"Zounds! sir, how you go on! Without offending you, you then look upon
me as a pitiful fellow; you deprive me of all imagination, of all
ingenuity. If I am not mistaken, it is some distance to the Cayman's
Creek, at Fort Royal?"

"About three leagues," said the duke.

"Very well, your highness, in this country three leagues are three
hours, and in three hours a man like myself has at least six chances of
escaping. I have long legs and strong as a stag's. The companion of
Rend-your-Soul has taught me how to walk," replied the Gascon, smiling
with a malicious air. "Now I swear to you that it will make the good
Chemerant's escort take some pretty lively strides to keep up with me."

"And you desire that I should allow you to stake your life on a chance
as doubtful as that of an escape, when thirty soldiers, used to the
country, would instantly be on your track?" said the duke. "Never!"

"And you desire, your highness, that I place my life, my salvation on a
chance as uncertain as the clemency of the good Chemerant?"

"At least I should not sacrifice you to a certainty, and the chances are
equal," said the duke.

"Equal!" cried the adventurer indignantly. "Equal, your highness? Do you
dare compare yourself with me? Who am I? and what purpose do I serve
here below if not to carry an old sword at my side, and to live here and
there according to the whims of humankind? I am nothing, I do nothing, I
have nothing to care for. To whom is my life of any use? Who interests
himself about me? Who even knows if Polypheme de Croustillac exists or
not?"

"Chevalier, you are not right, and----"

"Zounds! your highness, you belong to the duchess, the adopted child of
Sidney. If he died for you, it is the least you can do to live for her
whom he loved as his own child! If you reduce her to despair, she may
die of grief, and you will have two victims instead of one to lament."

"But once more, chevalier----"

"But!" cried Croustillac, with a significant