what do you want?" cried the Gascon, turning impatiently
toward De Chemerant.

The face of the latter expressed so much surprise at hearing the man
whom he believed to be the Duke of Monmouth give vent to such a peculiar
exclamation, that the Gascon realized the imprudence of which he had
been guilty. He quickly recovered his usual coolness, looked at De
Chemerant in an abstracted manner; then, as if he had awakened from a
profound meditation, he said, in a short tone, "Very well, sir, let us
go." Again mounting his horse, the Gascon took the road to Fort Royal,
still followed by the escort and accompanied by De Chemerant.

Croustillac was not a man, in spite of his chagrin, to entirely despair
of the present. Chemerant, recovering from his surprise, attributed the
somber taciturnity of the Gascon to the painful thoughts which the
criminal conduct of the Duchess of Monmouth must cause him; while the
adventurer, summing up the chances of escape which remained to him,
analyzed the state of his heart, reasoning as follows: "Blue Beard (I
shall always call her that--it was thus I heard her name for the first
time, when I thought of her without knowing her), Blue Beard is
gone--forever gone; I shall never see her again, never, never, it is
evident. It will be impossible to escape from the memory of her. It is
absurd, stupid, not to be imagined, but so it is--this proves it that
this little woman has completely subjugated me. I was gay, careless and
loquacious as a bird on the bough, but little scrupulous as to delicacy,
and now behold me, sad, morose, taciturn, and of a delicacy so
inordinate that I had a horrible fear lest Blue Beard should offer me,
in parting, some remuneration other than the medallion from which she
had the generosity to remove the jewels. Alas! from this time forth,
this memory will be all my happiness--sad happiness! What a change! I,
who heretofore cared so much the more for bravery of attire since I was
badly clothed; I, who would have found such happiness in wearing this
velvet coat garnished with rich gold buttons--I wish for the moment to
come when I can don my old green garments and my pink hose, proud to say
'I leave this Potosi, this Devil's Cliff, this diamond mine, as much of
a beggar as when I entered into it.' Is it not, my faith, very plain
that before knowing Blue Beard, I had never in my life had such
thoughts? Now, what remains for me to hope?" said Croustillac, adopting,
as was his wo