was Gilliatt. Lethierry rushed at him, embraced
him, hugged him, cried over him, and dragged him into the lower room of
the Bravees. "Give me your word that I am not crazy!" he kept crying.
"It can't be true. Not a tap, not a pin missing. It is incredible. We
have only to put in a little oil. What a revolution! You are my child,
my son, my Providence. Brave lad! To go and fetch my good old engine. In
the open sea among those cut-throat rocks. I have seen some strange
things in my life; nothing like that."

Gilliatt gave him the belt and the box containing the three thousand
pounds stolen by Clubin. Again Lethierry was thrown into a wild
amazement. "Did anyone ever see a man like Gilliatt?" he concluded. "I
was struck down to the ground, I was a dead man. He comes and sets me up
again as firm as ever. And all the while I was never thinking of him. He
had gone clean out of my mind; but I recollect everything now. Poor lad!
Ah, by the way, you know you are to marry Derouchette."

Gilliatt leaned with his back against the wall, like one who staggers,
and said, in a tone very low, but distinct, "No."

Lethierry started. "How, no?"

"I do not love her."

Lethierry laughed that idea to scorn. He was wild with joy. Gilliatt,
his son, his preserver, should marry Derouchette--he, and none other.
Neighbours had begun to flock in, roused by the bell. The room was
crowded. Derouchette presently glided in, and was espied by Lethierry in
the crowd. He seized her; told her the news. "We are rich again! And you
shall marry the prodigy who has done this thing." His eye fell upon the
man who had followed Derouchette into the room; it was the young priest
whom Gilliatt had rescued from the seat in the rock. "Ah, you are there,
Monsieur le Cure," exclaimed the old man; "you will marry these young
people for us. There's a fine fellow!" he cried, and pointed to
Gilliatt.

Gilliatt's appearance was hideous. He was in the condition in which he
had that morning set sail from the rocks--in rags, his bare elbows
showing through his sleeves, his beard long, his hair rough and wild,
his eyes bloodshot, his skin peeling, his hands covered with wounds, his
feet naked and torn. Some of the blisters left by the devil-fish were
still visible upon his arms.

"This is my son-in-law!" cried Lethierry. "How he has struggled with the
sea! He is all in rags. What shoulders! What hands! There's a splendid
fellow!"

But Lethierry did not know Gilliatt