ile we were busy about this, we saw the head
of a man appear from behind one of the rocks, which he was trying to
climb, clinging to it by one hand; we ran to him, and luckily in the
nick of time, for he was clean worn out, and fell exhausted into the
arms of our men. It was of him I spoke when I talked of a hero; for, not
content with having saved the two young girls by his admirable courage,
he had attempted to rescue a third person, and had actually gone back
amongst the rocks and breakers--but his strength failed him, and,
without the aid of our men, he would certainly have been washed away
from the ridge to which he clung."

"He must indeed be a fine fellow!" said Catherine.

Rodin, with his head bowed upon his breast, seemed quite indifferent to
this conversation. The dismay and stupor, in which he had been plunged,
only increased upon reflection. The two girls, who had just been saved,
were fifteen years of age; were dressed in mourning; were so like, that
one might be taken for the other; one of them wore round her neck a
chain with a bronze medal; he could scarcely doubt that they were the
daughters of General Simon. But how could those sisters be amongst the
number of shipwrecked passengers? How could they have escaped from the
prison at Leipsic? How did it happen, that he had not been informed of
it? Could they have fled, or had they been set at liberty? How was
it possible that he should not be apprise of such an event? But these
secondary thoughts, which offered themselves in crowds to the mind of
M. Rodin, were swallowed up in the one fact: "the daughters of General
Simon are here!"--His plan, so laboriously laid, was thus entirely
destroyed.

"When I speak of the deliverer of these young girls," resumed the
bailiff, addressing his wife, and without remarking M. Rodin's absence
of mind, "you are expecting no doubt to see a Hercules?--well, he is
altogether the reverse. He is almost a boy in look, with fair, sweet
face, and light, curling locks. I left him a cloak to cover him, for he
had nothing on but his shirt, black knee-breeches, and a pair of black
worsted stockings--which struck me as singular."

"Why, it was certainly not a sailor's dress."

"Besides, though the ship was English, I believe my hero is a Frenchman,
for he speaks our language as well as we do. What brought the tears to
my eyes, was to see the young girls, when they came to themselves. As
soon as they saw him, they threw themselves