he stranger gazing at him with an air of
profound pity. The noise had ceased; but it seemed that Morrel expected
something--something had occasioned the noise, and something must
follow. The stranger fancied he heard footsteps on the stairs; and that
the footsteps, which were those of several persons, stopped at the door.
A key was inserted in the lock of the first door, and the creaking of
hinges was audible.

"There are only two persons who have the key to that door," murmured
Morrel, "Cocles and Julie." At this instant the second door opened,
and the young girl, her eyes bathed with tears, appeared. Morrel rose
tremblingly, supporting himself by the arm of the chair. He would have
spoken, but his voice failed him. "Oh, father!" said she, clasping her
hands, "forgive your child for being the bearer of evil tidings."

Morrel again changed color. Julie threw herself into his arms.

"Oh, father, father!" murmured she, "courage!"

"The Pharaon has gone down, then?" said Morrel in a hoarse voice. The
young girl did not speak; but she made an affirmative sign with her head
as she lay on her father's breast.

"And the crew?" asked Morrel.

"Saved," said the girl; "saved by the crew of the vessel that has just
entered the harbor." Morrel raised his two hands to heaven with an
expression of resignation and sublime gratitude. "Thanks, my God," said
he, "at least thou strikest but me alone." A tear moistened the eye of
the phlegmatic Englishman.

"Come in, come in," said Morrel, "for I presume you are all at the
door."

Scarcely had he uttered those words than Madame Morrel entered weeping
bitterly. Emmanuel followed her, and in the antechamber were visible the
rough faces of seven or eight half-naked sailors. At the sight of these
men the Englishman started and advanced a step; then restrained himself,
and retired into the farthest and most obscure corner of the apartment.
Madame Morrel sat down by her husband and took one of his hands in hers,
Julie still lay with her head on his shoulder, Emmanuel stood in the
centre of the chamber and seemed to form the link between Morrel's
family and the sailors at the door.

"How did this happen?" said Morrel.

"Draw nearer, Penelon," said the young man, "and tell us all about it."

An old seaman, bronzed by the tropical sun, advanced, twirling the
remains of a tarpaulin between his hands. "Good-day, M. Morrel," said
he, as if he had just quitted Marseilles the previous eveni