n wore the garb of an old-iron gatherer. His countenance was
unkempt, pale, scowling, with black eyes embedded in it, his hair coarse
and long, his mouth hard and drooping. He pushed back the grey _tuque_
with which his head had been covered, and without readdressing the
Admiral, got up, slowly unwound the cords which bound the black box, and
raised the lid. Hache looked on.

Gougeon first took out a couple of coarse articles of clothing, and
uttered a grunt. His next grasp brought up a brilliant article of
apparel. He raised it to examine it at the window. The garment shone
even in the meagre light. It was a waistcoat of flowered silk, sown with
seed-pearls. The Admiral stood by, smiling.

With the other hand Gougeon pulled out and lifted a magnificent
rose-coloured dress-coat with silver buttons.

Having gazed at them all round and grunted to his own satisfaction and
to that of Hache, he dived again into the box, where he fumbled around a
large lump covered with linen, and at length drew out a shining
article--a golden _soleil_, or sun-shaped stand for displaying the Host
at the mass. Beside it was a finely embossed chalice of silver. His eyes
and those of Hache were lost in wonder.

There came just then a tap at the door.

The articles were whipped back into their box and covered. The woman of
the shop below walked in. All recovered self-possession. She bolted the
door herself.

Gougeon's mate, who thus appeared among them, was a small woman of about
forty, with the sharp grey eyes of a wild animal.

The coat and vessels were displayed to her by her husband.

"Admiral," she said, "where do these come from?"

The chief seemed to recognise in her a personage equal to himself. He
bowed and said--

"Madame, the _soleil_ and chalice were the Abbey of Pontcalec's, and
were politely removed for safe-keeping by seven marines of the
Galley-on-land."

"And this fine waistcoat?" said Madame, smiling.

"Was one of which the owner had no longer need," he said, looking at
her.

"Indeed," she returned nonchalantly.

"It was a troublesome marquis who ventured home one night by a short
cut. He was one of the fellows who does not believe in the necessity of
a poor man living. He saw a fire of ours in the waste, and what does he
do but ride up and over us. Luckily there is no blood on the waistcoat."

Madame's smile expanded. She looked the article over, picked the
seed-pearls and lace with her little skinny hands, t