are covered with iron plates and strengthened
with two bars of iron, the door is nailed up outside with large
boat-nails three inches long. His coffin is more solid than if it were
made of oak and lead."

"I say, though, when La Louve comes out of prison, and makes her way
here, to see her man, as she calls him?"

"Well, we shall say, 'Look for him.'"

"By the way, do you know that, if mother had not shut up those young
'rips' of children, they would have gnawed their ways through the door,
like young rats, to free Martial? That little vagabond Francois is quite
furious since he suspects we have packed away his tall brother."

"But, you know, they mustn't be left in the room up-stairs whilst we
leave the island; the window is not barred, and they have only to drop
down outside."

At this moment the attention of Nicholas and Calabash was attracted by
the sound of cries and sobs which came from the house. They saw the door
of the ground floor, which had been open until then, close violently,
and a minute afterwards the pale and sinister countenance of Mere
Martial appeared through the bars of the kitchen window. With her long
lean arm the culprit's widow made a sign to her children to come to her.

"There's a row, I know; I'll bet that it is Francois, who's giving
himself some airs again," said Nicholas. "That beggar Martial! But for
him, this young scamp would be by himself. You keep a good look-out,
and, if you see the two women coming, give me a call."

Whilst Calabash again mounted the bench, and looked out for the arrival
of Seraphin and the Goualeuse, Nicholas entered the house. Little
Amandine was on her knees in the centre of the kitchen, sobbing and
asking pardon for her Brother Francois. Enraged and threatened, the lad,
ensconced in one of the angles of the apartment, had Nicholas's hatchet
in his hand, and appeared determined this time to offer the most
desperate resistance to his mother's wishes. Impassive as usual, showing
Nicholas the cellar, the widow made a sign to her son to shut Francois
up there.

"I will never be shut up there!" cried the boy, in a determined tone.
"You want to make us die of hunger, like Brother Martial."

The widow looked at Nicholas with an impatient air, as if to reproach
him for not instantly executing her commands, as, with another imperious
gesture, she pointed to Francois. Seeing his brother advance towards
him, the young boy brandished the axe with a desperate air an