ics brought about heated
quarrels between the Emperor and his natural superior, the mayor La
Queue. Respectful of discipline, the former heard the reproaches of the
latter, then recommenced to act as his head dictated; which disorganized
the public authority of Coqueville. One could not pass before the shed
ornamented with the name of the town hall without being deafened by the
noise of some dispute. On the other hand, the Abbe Radiguet rallied to
the triumphant Floches, who loaded him with superb mackerel, secretly
encouraged the resistance of Rouget's wife and threatened Margot with
the flames of hell if she should ever allow Delphin to touch her with
his finger. It was, to sum up, complete anarchy; the army in revolt
against the civil power, religion making itself complaisant toward
the pleasures of the bourgeoisie; a whole people, a hundred and eighty
inhabitants, devouring each other in a hole, in face of the vast sea,
and of the infinite sky.

Alone, in the midst of topsy-turvy Coqueville, Delphin preserved the
laughter of a love-sick boy, who scorned the rest, provided Margot
was for him. He followed her zigzags as one follows hares. Very wise,
despite his simple look, he wanted the cure to marry them, so that his
bliss might last forever.

One evening, in a byway where he was watching for her, Margot at last
raised her hand. But she stopped, all red; for without waiting for
the slap, he had seized the hand that threatened him and kissed it
furiously. As she trembled, he said to her in a low voice: "I love you.
Won't you have me?"

"Never!" she cried, in rebellion.

He shrugged his shoulders, then with an air, calm and tender, "Pray do
not say that--we shall be very comfortable together, we two. You will
see how nice it is."

II

That Sunday the weather was appalling, one of those sudden calamities
of September that unchain such fearful tempests on the rocky coast of
Grandport. At nightfall Coqueville sighted a ship in distress driven by
the wind. But the shadows deepened, they could not dream of rendering
help. Since the evening before, the "Zephir" and the "Baleine" had been
moored in the little natural harbor situated at the left of the beach,
between two walls of granite. Neither La Queue nor Rouget had dared
to go out, the worst of it was that M. Mouchel, representing the Widow
Dufeu, had taken the trouble to come in person that Saturday to promise
them a reward if they would make a serious eff