The words were not
heard within; and it would not have mattered if they had been; for the
words were in the negro language. But the air was, by this time,
intelligible enough to the invaders. In the interest of conversation,
nothing escaped the eye of Toussaint. He saw an exchange of glances
between General Brunet and his secretary, and a half smile on the face
of each which he did not like.

He thought it best to take no notice; but, far from leaving off, Denis
sang louder as he sank deeper into reverie. Monsieur Pascal became
aware of some embarrassment, and of its cause.

"Denis, you disturb us," he called out from the table.

They heard no more of Denis; and their business proceeded. Vexed,
partly with himself, and partly at having been rebuked in General
Brunet's hearing, he went round the house by the balcony, and thence to
the upper gallery, which commanded the finest sea view in the day-time,
and the freshest sea breezes at night. There, in a somewhat perverse
mood, he sang for his own pleasure the air which he had been checked for
singing unconsciously. He remained there a long while--he did not know
how long--till the moon rose, when he remembered that it must be
midnight. As no one had called him, he supposed that the party in the
library were still in consultation.

As his eye rested on the bay, while he was considering whether he must
not go in, he perceived something dark lying on the waters between the
island and the shore. As he strained his sight, and as the waned moon
rose higher, he discovered that it was a ship. It was strange. No ship
ever had business there; though he had heard that there was a deep
channel, and good anchorage in that little bay. It was very strange.
But something stranger still soon met his ear--sounds, first odd, then
painful--horrible. There was some bustle below--on the beach, within
the little gate--he thought even on the lawn. It was a scuffle; there
was a stifled cry. He feared the guard were disarmed and gagged--
attacked on the side of the sea, where no one dreamed of an assault, and
where there was no Christophe to help. Denis knew, however, how to
reach Christophe. He did the right thing. Lest his purpose should be
prevented if he entered the house, he clambered up the roof to its
ridge, and swung the heavy alarm-bell. Its irregular clang banished
sleep in a moment from a circuit of many miles. It not only startled
the ladies of the family from