University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.

We left Louis de Fernay our French lieutenant
on his way to Calais, and when a mile
from the chateau, arrested by the conflagration
of his ship, which, he watched with grief
and horror, until the tempest swept her from
his view, still on fire as she disappeared in the
distance. The reader, however, has followed
her terrific course towards the north sea, and
then seen her driven back again nearly to the
spot from whence she had started, with the
storm abated, and the two lovers, looking
from her deck upon a moonlight scene of bay
and shore, with the chateau in bold relief half

a mile distant; the heavy ground swell driving
the huge fabric helplessly onwards towards
the rocky beach beneath it.

Louis did not leave his post on the headland
till the violence of the gale drove him
for shelter to the nearest roof, which was that
of a deserted fisherman's hut, situated under
the lee and against the cliff. Here he and
his horse found partial protection from the
wild force of the driving blast, while his
bosom was torn with doubt and fears for those
on board the frigate, the few who might still
be on the burning line of-battle-ship, and for
the fate of the boats and their crowded numbers.
Anxious to know the worst he made
several different attempts to leave the hut and
return, at least to the chateau, where if any
were saved they would probaby be found
sheltered. But the fury of the wind and the
darkness of the coming night forced him back.
He therefore, though with a sufficiently important
spirit, made up his mind to be detained
there until the storm should break up or
morning should appear.

With this view he fastened the door, unsaddled
his horse and fastening him to a bolt
in the stone chimney of the hut, placed the
saddle upon the floor and laid down using
it for a pillow. The hut was wholly dark
save when a flash of lightning showed him
the wretchedness of his quarters. The howling
of the hurricane mingled with the roar of
the breakers as they leaped madly against the
side of the cliff which they shook to its foundations,
for a time drove sleep from his eyes.
At length slumber stole over him, and sleep
deep and heavy, sealed his senses, lulled
by the monotonous roar of the waves and wind
to which his ear had now become familiar.
How long he had slept, he knew not, when
he was awakened by a loud clap of thunder
and noise of a heavy fall within the hut, that
startled him to his feet. It took him a moment
to recollect where he was and the circumstances
which had placed him there. The
winds were now still and the roar of the
breaking surges only met his ear. There was
more light too in the interior of the hut, and
looking out from a small wicket window he
saw with pleasure that the clouds were breaking
up and the heavens becoming lighter,
though still wild and tempestuous. He now
missed his horse and feeling for him, found
he had broken from his fastening by the chimney,
leaving a piece of his bridle in the bolt.
The door being still fast, he was surprised at
this and began to search round the sides of
the hut to discover some other opening by
which he might have got out.

He found the place was spacious and walled
on one side by the cliff, which to his surprise,
he found was penetrated by a large
opening. He stumbled over a heavy door
which lay before it upon the ground and which
had evidently fallen from the passage, which
it had been intended to secure, and which had
been thrown down by the shock of the thunder
clap which had awakened him. He found
by his hands that it was broad and high
enough for the passage of a man, but irregular
in its shape as if a natural fissure in the rock.
His horse, he was confident, must have wandered
through it and he resolved to explore it
not only in search of him, but to gratify his
curiosity. He drew his sword and carried it
in his hand, for he recollected that smuggler's
infected the coast and that this was probably
one of their haunts.

Listening before he advanced and hearing
no sound save an impotent dash now and then
of his horse's hooofs, which showed him that
his lost companion was not only there but had
penetrated some distance from the hut. With
cautious steps carefully feeling his way with
the point of his sword he advanced in perfect
darkness several feet over a stony floor, the
sound of the sea growing fainter as he proceeded
further in. The passage was of irregular
width and was partially blocked up
by a gun pointed outwards which he ascertained
to be a twelve pounder. At length it
opened wider into a sort of a cavern, which by
the sound of his sword hilt struck against the
sides, he knew was of narrow dimensions;
but a prolonged reiteration of the sound to the
left, showed him that it extended in that direction.
He soon found the passage which
by a shallow flight of three or four steps led
him into a large vaulted appartment, for he
knew its size by a sensation he felt of space
above and around him. At the opposite extremity
he was surprised to see a faint glow
like halfburied embers, and while he was deliberating
whether to advance further or not,
in such a mysterious place, his blood was
curdled by the rubbing of his horse's nose
against his shoulder.

Smiling at his sudden alarm he caressed
his truant companion and taking his bridle,
led him forward towards the glow worm looking
spot, which as he came nearer he saw with
pleasure were embers. He was within a few
feet of them when he fell over a human body
that was prostrate in his path. A loud fierce
growl of rage caused him to spring farther
from him, and by a sharp blow with his sword
disengaged his leg which the man had seized.
The horse close behind him was then evidently
laid hold of by the fetlock as he was
stepping along over him, for such a yell of
surprise and mortal terror as followed the
grasp upon the hoof was never uttered by
human lungs before. It made Louis's blood
run cold. There were a struggle too! The
horse had trodden upon his garments and
held him down, while with yells and curses
he strove in the darkness to disengage himself.

`Ha! The devil! ha, the devil! Jacques!
Pierre! the devil has got me at last! Mercie,
Marie! Mercie, Jesu! Sacre! oh, helas, aie!'
Here there was a dying away of the tones and
the voice subsided into a low moan.

Filled with consternation as Louis was by
this unexpected and startling event he could
not help laughing, and hastened to the ashes
to make a light. He found on stirring the
bed of embers that there was a profusion of
hot coals which as he opened them, shed a
glare upon a huge chimney in which he stood

and by which he discovered his horse standing
quietly over the prostrate form of a man.
By its light he also saw a piece of tarred rope
which had been used as a torch and which he
immediately lighted a bright blaze which it
gave out showed him a large cavernous chamber
the lofty sides of which were piled with
every sort of merchandize from casks of spirits
to cases of silks and bales of laces, all ready to
be taken across the channel. He was now
satisfied of the character of the place and reputation
of his new companion. He approached
the man with the torch, whom he found
lying on his back beneath his astonished steed
who had one hoof upon his jacket. The poor
fellow's face was pale as ashes; his eyes were
closed and his hands clasped over a crucifix,
while his livid lips moved rapidly and inaudibly
in prayer. The very hairs of his
head were stiffened with his fear and his
body shook with the convulsions of mortal
terror.

Louis gently led his horse from above him,
and then looked at him a moment as he lay
there. He saw he was about forty years of
age, with a bald place in the crown of his
head, and a huge gray beard! He was short
and fleshy, and though coarsely, somewhat
fantastically dressed with an Indian's love
for finery. There was an expression in his
round visage of simplicity and cunning, and
Louis set him down for some half-witted fellow
belonging to the gang, and left in charge
of their rendezvous. He touched him with
his foot, but he did not stir. He then pricked
him in the ribs with his sword, when he threw
up his short duck legs into the air, and closing
his eyes tighter, cried out for mercy of
`good Mr. Diabolus.'

`Up, up with thee,' said Louis, sternly.
Open your eyes and get to your feet.'

`The man's fears were somewhat lulled by
the sound of his voice, and his habits of obeying
made him get so far up as to sit upon the
floor of the cave. Then, with one eye he
looked with surprise at the intruder, and with
the other, surveyed with amusing doubt and
fear the patient horse, who stood near by contemplating
him.

`Come, sir, get to your feet. Who are you.'

`A good Christian, Mr. Devil, and I hope
you will let me live a little longer. I've got
a good many sins o' conscience to repent of.
Oh, it's pitiful to be waked out of a sound sleep,
with a cloven foot in one's fist. You gave me
a terrible fright, Mr. Devil, so let me off this
time on that.'

`What is the fool talking about. Prick up
your senses. There! do you feel better,
sirrah?' added Louis, lifting him by the neck
to his feet.

`Yes, I think I do. It was only a horse,
then?'

`Yes'

`Then I'll let old Lucifer go to the —But
I was a leetle taken by surprise; But what are
you and your horse doing here, Mister?' he
demanded in a tone of authority.

`I have come in here for shelter from the
storm.'

`Does it blow, out? Then the boys 'll not
be in to-night. But how did you get in now?'
he asked in a tone of puzzled surprise.

`By accident. Are you alone?'

The man shook his head with a cautious
glance around him and muttered to himself,
`I see—he'll murder me if he knows the Captain
has left me here! No,' he then answered
with more firmness of manner than Louis believed
he could assume. He, however, knew
that he was deceiving him.

`You are smugglers?'

`No, I am only a `prentice.'

`What are these goods?'

`The King's.'

`What King's?'

`George. You see the Parlyment makes
too hard laws about importin'; and as the
King and royal family likes to wear rich
goods, and the duties makes `em too high for
their purses in these times; so the King employs
a few vessels to smuggle in what is
wanted at Court, and lends 'em his own colors
and guns, and gives 'em passes, to help 'em
cheat his own cruisers.'

Louis looked at the parti-colored little man
in red jacket, plaid cap and green trowsers,
with surprise and natural incredulity at his
extraordinary statement; yet the seriousness
of his manner, and the connection of his narrative
with the known fact of the embarrassment
of, and love of foreign finery displayed
by the English court, could not but lead him
to entertain the belief that he told the truth,
and that he was truly in a royal smugglery.
But a moment's reflection, made him aware
of the absurdity of giving credence to so improbable
a story.

`Who is your Captain?'

`A lord's son.'

`And you yourself are, no doubt, a knight
at the least.'

`Yes. I am knight of the cave here. They
leave me in charge between whiles. They
have been enough gone within the last fortnight,
with good luck, to be back again. But
this storm keeps them off. Sacre! I haven't
got over my fright yet.

`Your lungs gave a good account of themselves!
You cried out in French. You are
not French?

`No.'

`English?'

`No. I am a Yankee sort from the Bay
State. I was second cook and waitin' man
of all work, aboard Cap'n Jerry Coffin's 'mophridite
brig Fishook, bound to Cadiz, and an
English cruiser took us in charge, thinking
we were not old enough to take care of ourselves.
They were all put in Durtmoor hole
but me, and I was let go to pick up my own
livin', coz they said I was a witless, and would
harm nobody. Finally, I was smuggled aboard
a smugglin' schooner, and arter they'd made
me do all the work awhile about the caboose,
they put me in here to watch the goods, and
cook for 'em when they came ashore. It's no
honest trade, and so I was easily skeered when
I felt them fetlocks and hoofs about my ears,
and strait away believed it was the Old One.

You are a likely youngster. Where do you
hail from, now, I've told my story.'

`You are not such an idiot as you pretend
to be,' said Louis quickly; `I believe you assume
a fool's character for your own purposes.
You did it I am sure, to deceive your captors,
and you have done it to try and deceive me.
I am on my guard now.'

The man eyed him sharply for a few seconds,
and then said,

`You are a smart one! I am a little cracked
by natur,' it is true, but my noncompos is
more nor three quarters feigned. I can have
my wits about me, when I'm a mind to—
though your pesky horse here, did 'een-a-most
scare 'em clean off forever after more. You're
cute! and let me tell you if you love your
soul-case, to make the best of your way out of
these plantin's rite off—for if the cap'n catches
you here, it's a gone case with you. Them's
my sentiments.'

Louis was puzzled what to make of his companion,
but finally set him down as a shrewd
fool, whose character was compounded of simplicity
and cunning. By dint of artful questioning,
he made out to learn from him, that
this cavern was the depot of a band of smugglers,
both French and English, for the mutual
cheating of the revenues on both sides of
the channel; that freight intended to be smuggled
into France from England, was first landed
at night and deposited here, and goods intended
for the English market, stored here till
required for shipping; that several small vessels
were concerned in it, and that the illicit
trade was known at Calais by the officer of
the port, but connived at through heavy bribery.
That these vessels were well armed and
manned, and often defied the English cruisers,
and almost always escaped them.

Louis himself now recollected having heard
of an organized fleet of smugglers and of a secret
rendezvous on the coast, but he never suspected
its vicinage to the chateau; and he
was surprised that its existence should have
so long, perhaps for centuries, been kept secret
from all but those concerned in the lawless
trade it so highly favored. He remembered,
too, hearing of a celebrated smuggler
who infested the coast, who was singularly
daring, always eluded pursuit and had thrice
beaten off cruisers sent cut to take him; whose
movements were always so sudden and unforeseen
that they mocked all espionage and
precaution on the part of those who sought to
take him.

`Do you know the name of your chief's vessel?'
he asked, wishing to learn if he was in
the haunt of this bold man.

`Some call him Black Ralph.'

`That's the name,' said Louis, quickly. `So!
I have made a discovery that will give a king's
vessel work to do.'

`What's that?' demanded a strange voice in
a stern tone that made him start and look round
with surprise. Near him stood a stout, thick
set man with a seaman's cap and dress, and a
brace of pistols at his belt.

`I meant nothing more than my words,'
answered Louis in the same tone of defiance.

`You have discovered a rendezvous which
is death for any man but a sworn smuggler to
enter. Your words show me that you intend
to make use of your knowledge to betray the
place. This is your horse. You seem to have
been driven hither for shelter.'

`I was,' answered Louis, struck by the bold
and determined bearing of the other.

`You should then have been a guest. You
are now a prisoner.'

`That is to be tried,' said Louis, throwing
himself upon the smuggler and seizing one of
his pistols. There was a momentary but
fierce struggle, pistols were discharged, blood
flowed from the smuggler's arm, and Louis
lay upon the floor of the cave with his foot
upon his breast. His victor surveyed him a
moment by the flickering torch which lay upon
the ground beside him, and then removing
his foot he said in a tone of singular quietness.

`Rise up. You have drawn my blood—but
I will not take your life. I know you. Your
father did me a service in years past, and I
repay it by giving you your life. Here is
your sword. You are the son of the Marquis
de Fernay.'

`Yes,' said Louis, rising to his feet. `Who
are you that can remember favors at such a
time and in the unlawful pursuit you follow
know how to be generous to the conquered?'

`I am a Frenchman,' answered the other,
coldly.

`That your speech tells me.'

`That is all you need know. Take your
horse and leave the cavern. The storm is
passing over.

`Will you let me depart even without
drawing an oath of secresy from me?' asked
Louis, taking his horse's bridle in his hand.

`He who owes me his life will never betray
me.'

`You have a high scale of honor for such a
profession.'

`Though a smuggler I am no less a man.'

`I have a desire to know more of you.'

`Your horse is impatient.'

Louis without further questions followed
him as he preceded him with the torch. To
the surprise of the young officer he led him by
a different passage from that by which he
came and which let him forth by a rocky path
that terminated in the sea. Wild and precipitous
rocks rose above him and hung threateningly
over the outlet, far into the entrance of
which the spray of the surf was thrown.

`As you came by this way you will easily
return to the upland without further guidance,'
said the man pausing upon a rock his torch
flashing rudely upon the water and ragged
rocks.

`I entered by another route,' answered
Louis.

`How?'

`Through a hut.'

`Who has opened that entrance which has
been closed for years and unknown to but a
few living men?' he demanded.

Louis briefly explained what is already
known to the reader, and the smuggler bidding

him return conducted him back, and so
out by the way he entered. The fallen door
and piece of bridle in the belt in the chimney
showed him that his guest had doubtless spoken
truly.

As Louis mounted his horse, the smuggler
said in a low tone, `I know your father's blood
and it should be honorable. But I cannot trust
all men. I warn you. If this depot be discovered
through your visit here to-night yonder
chateau shall be levelled with the ground;
and there my vengeance shall not stop. Beware!'

`But the opening is plain enough seaward
methinks.'

`No. In the day time it appears a wild
chaos of hanging and piled up rocks giving
foot-hold only to the gull and against which
the surges below roll with ceaseless roar. No
vessels but ours can approach within half a
mile and boats seldom come near for the breakers.
The whole cliff-ribbed coast for leagues
has been searched for this secret spot and yet
it has been undiscovered except by those
whose lives'—here his voice fell to a low and
menacing tone—`have been the forfeit of their
dangerous knowledge.'

Pray let me know your name. Methinks it
should have reached my ears and I would
like to learn I am right.'

`Lan-frane.'

`Ha! The—'

`Enough,' said the other quickly and sternly.

`You are a wonderful man. I am not mortified
at my discomfiture now that I know
who has been my victor.'

The other smiled with grim pleasure at
the compliment his words conveyed and then
waved him an adieu and re-entered the hut.

It was now about two in the morning. The
clouds had broken away and as Louis turned
from the hut the moon suddenly shone out
and gave a brilliancy to the scene that singularly
and beautifully contrasted with the late
storm. Reflecting upon the singular place
upon which he had found shelter and upon
the events that followed he put spurs to his
horse and rode up from the beach to regain
the top of the cliff. He soon reached the summit
and drew rein to look abroad upon the
channel with the fate of the frigate and the
unhappy line-of-battle-ship in his thoughts.
Calais with its towers and battlements was on
the left, and the towers of the chateau were
visible to the right a third of a league distant,
while before him stretching from the west to
the east was the dark channel, its distant
waves leaping to the moonlight in silvery jets,
and those nearer rolling in shoreward with
that majestic roll which ever follows a storm.
Not a sail was visible in all the wide expanse
to cheer his eye, but portions of the channel
lay in shadow from clouds suspended above
them. Suddenly a moonbeam fell upon a
distant sail. Could it be the frigate? He
looked with intense earnestness, when what
seemed so far off, as the moon fell upon
it proved to be near, within a mile; and distinctly
showed herself to be a raking schoon
er under a fore-topsail, jib and mainsail.

He again looked searchingly over the channel
for any signs of the frigate, when he heard
a heavy gun fired from the direction of the
chateau, the sound of which at that hour fell
with startling distinctness upon his ears. He
looked in the direction of the chateau, when
he saw a flash upon the water opposite to it
and heard another report that awoke the
echoes of the cliff with prolonged reverberations.
By the glare of the flash he could
see about a third of a mile off against the chateau
a huge hulk rolling landward upon the
waves which threatened it with destruction
upon the reefs towards which they were bearing
it. He gazed an instant endeavoring to
make it out more distinctly and then exclaiming
`La Minerve!' put spurs to his horse and
galloped at full speed towards that point of
the shore.

Heavily thundered gun after gun from the
wreck of the majestic battle-ship as each wave
heaved her shoreward Louis rode like the
wind. He beheld the corses of men strewed
upon the beach in great numbers; here a
boat stranded bottom upwards, and there a
burnt fragment of the burnt spars of the wreck.
The whole shore as he went along presented
to his eyes painful evidences of the terrible
destruction produced by the hurricane which
had so lately swept land and sea like a besom.
Ship wrecked men wandered along the beach
or sat upon the rocks till aid should come to
them. This he did not delay to offer, for he
saw it was at hand. The cessation of the
gale had led the alert authorities of the city
to despatch parties from town to search for
and bury the bodies of the drowned, and give
protection to those who had escaped. Soldiers
were also dispatched and were moving to the
scene of disaster, for the purpose of protecting
the dead from being stripped by the rabble,
and protecting property that might have drifted
ashore. Of all the boats which had left
the burning ship, but one—the life-boat reached
the shore. The rest were submerged with
all their crews, most of whom perished ere
they could gain the land. Out of five hundred
men caught by the storm in the boats,
but seventy-one escaped in safety. The life-boat
which, it will be remembered contained
the officers with Capt. Navarre, was several
times overturned, each time righting with diminished
numbers. When at length she
reached the shore, which she was three hours
in doing, but eleven persons, five officers and
six men, remained in her. One of them was
Capt. Navarre. Fatigued and incapable of
farther exertion, they threw themselves on the
ground, sheltered by rocks, and there remained
until the storm abated a little, when they
sought shelter in the chateau, the hospitable
doors of which were thrown wide open all
night, and lights burned in every window, to
guide the shipwrecked mariner to shelter. The
Marquis received them with gratitude to God
for their escape, which was not lessened when
he found that Captain Navarre was among
them, and who was an old school-boy friend.
The officers and men were shown to comfortable

quarters, while the Marquis led Captain
Navarre to his own room, which overlooked
the water. Here the Captain informed him
with insolable grief, of the loss of his daughter.
The Marquis after hearing his narrative,
endeavored to console him with the hope of
her yet surviving, and being restored to his
arms.

`No, no! She has perished! The ship is
lost! My poor Madeline is lost to me forever,'
was the only reply of the inconsolable father.
The Marquis, at length, left him to send succor
to any others that might have reached the
shore, while his thoughts were full of anxiety
for his son, whom he had not seen since his
departure for Calais. Josephine, also, was in
her chamber in tears, lest, so great had been
the violence of the storm on land, he had perished
in it.

When at length the moon broke through the
clouds, Josephine went out upon the balcony
and after casting a hasty glance leeward, fixed
her gaze intently on the road to Calais, upon
which the light lay brightly for half a mile.
She turned her weary gaze away to rest her
eyes upon the channel, when they fell upon a
dark object that she knew was a dismasted ship.
A cry which she unconsciously uttered at the
unexpected sight, brought the Marquis and
Captain Navarre to the balcony, when the practised
eyes of the latter instantly discovered the
floating wreck. He saw at once from its size
and condition that it must be Le Minerve,
which he had anticipated, if she could float so
long, that the change in the direction of the
gale would drive back again to that neighborhood.
If he had any doubls the report of a
thirty-two pounder, the flash of which lighted
up her sides and showed her serried tiers of
ports, fully removed them.

`It is the line-of-battle-ship,' he cried. `I
pray you hand me a spy-glass.'

Josephine placed one in his hand with which
he surveyed the wreck a few moments, speaking
at intervals,

`Yes—she is there, the poor Minerve! The
storm must have extinguished the conflagration!
Oh, that it were day that I might know
if my daughter lives! But no! She must
have perished—for the fire has swept away
every thing clean above decks. Ha! another
gun! Some one is on board! Could we have
left any of the men! There she fires again!
Whoever it is knows his danger! The ship is
driving towards the ledge that makes out below
the chateau! With this heavy ground swell
will break up like an egg shell! Let us to the
beach and render assistance! There is a sail
in the offing! A schooner standing in! She
can help any one on board if she can come along
side of her before she reches the breakers! She
surges in rapidly!—let us not delay, but hasten
with all means of relief to the shore.

Painful indeed was the surprise with which
they watched from the rocky ledge towards
which the ship was surging her advance to destruction.
Even divested of her lofty masts
she was a stately and majestic spectacle to
their eyes. Josephine watched also from the
balcony on her knees in prayers for the lives
of whoever was on board.

`Alas,' said Captain Navarre, as he saw
with all a seaman's affection and grief his noble
ship borne still noble in her ruins, swiftly
towards the spot where he stood impotent to
save or succor. She was now within two
cable's length rising and falling with a slow
and sublime progress that filled the spectators
with emotions of awe and fear. The discharge
of cannon had ceased, for Henry Monteith
had seen the party hurrying from the
chateau to the beach with ropes and boards.

`Come, Madeline, do not fear but we shall
now be saved,' he said, lifting her upon the
helms-man's house. `If they see you they
will make greater exertions for our safety.'

Madeline, supported by him stood upon the
elevation, so as to overlook the bulwarks and
see the group on the rocks.

`Oh, that my father were there, then should
I be perfectly happy,' she said.'

`My child! my child!' she heard from the
land in a loud voice, as Captain Navarre at the
same moment saw the fluttering of a white
robe upon the stern, and knew that his daughter
must be there. A wild shriek of joy replied
from the deck and the poor maiden
whom too much happiness had well nigh killed,
fell insensible. Monteith had hardly
raised her up when the huge fabric was lifted
unusually high by a vast billow which sinking
beneath it let the wreck fall upon a half-sunken
ledge with terrible effect. A tremendous
shock convulsed her whole frame and parting
amidships the forward part rolled over with a
terrific noise, and plunging beneath the waves
with all the weight of its armament and enormous
bulk, displaced a wide space in the
sea, which rolling back over the stern parting
in a towering column, poured upon it a flood
of great depth and irresistible power. Monteith,
ere he could plan escape, was submerged
with Madeline fast held in his embrace and
was carried over the bulwarks far beyond the
wreck. His senses did not forsake him, and
he struggled to reach the surface. But he
had been carried down in a circle of the vortex
made by the sinking bows, and he was
nearly exhausted when at length he reached
the top of a wave—but his burden had been torn
from him—he knew not how! He plunged
beneath the surface again and with a heart
sinking and with life no longer valuable rere-rose
alone! Some object was borne
against him by a wave—wet tressses were
driven in his face—it was Madeline! But he
still felt they must perish together as he clasped
her to his heart. A few yards before him
on the rocks, he saw her distracted father held
by the Marquis and others, least he should
plunge in to attempt to save them. Every
voice was encouragement, but every arm was
weak to save; Suddenly a horeseman dashed
down the precipice—galloped along the ledge
—a plunge!—and horse and rider were battling
the wave.

`She is saved?' cried the Marquis, as Louis
took her lifeless form across his saddle! `God
save my brave son!'

`She is saved!' echoed Josephine as she
beheld this gallant act from the balcony, and

saw both Henry and the maiden landed in
safety upon the rock. But her heart beat not
so thankfully as it ought, for she had heard
that Madeline Navarre, whom she had now
seen rescued from a watery grave by Louis
was `young and fair.'