there they are!"

He gave a cry of surprise. Margot, with her good eyes, swore that she no
longer saw a soul in the bark; neither Rouget, nor Fouasse, nor any one!
The "Baleine," as if abandoned, ran before the wind, tacking about every
minute, rocking herself with a lazy air.

A west wind had fortunately risen and was driving her toward the land,
but with strange caprices which tossed her to right and to left. Then
all Coqueville ran down to the shore. One half shouted to the other
half, there remained not a girl in the houses to look after the soup.
It was a catastrophe; something inexplicable, the strangeness of which
completely turned their heads. Marie, the wife of Rouget, after a
moment's reflection, thought it her duty to burst into tears. Tupain
succeeded in merely carrying an air of affliction. All the Mahes were in
great distress, while the Floches tried to appear conventional. Margot
collapsed as if she had her legs broken.

"What are you up to again!" cried La Queue, who stumbled upon her.

"I am tired," she answered simply.

And she turned her face toward the sea, her cheeks between her hands,
shading her eyes with the ends of her fingers, gazing fixedly at the
bark rocking itself idly on the waves with the air of a good fellow who
has drunk too much.

In the meanwhile suppositions were rife. Perhaps the three men had
fallen into the water? Only, all three at a time, that seemed absurd.

La Queue would have liked well to persuade them that the "Baleine" had
gone to pieces like a rotten egg; but the boat still held the sea;
they shrugged their shoulders. Then, as if the three men had actually
perished, he remembered that he was Mayor and spoke of formalities.

"Leave off!" cried the Emperor, "Does one die in such a silly way?" "If
they had fallen overboard, little Delphin would have been here by this!"

All Coqueville had to agree, Delphin swam like a herring. But where then
could the three men be? They shouted: "I tell you, yes!"--"I tell you,
no!"--"Too stupid!"--"Stupid yourself!" And matters came to the point
of exchanging blows. The Abbe Radiguet was obliged to make an appeal for
reconciliation, while the Emperor hustled the crowd about to establish
order. Meanwhile, the bark, without haste, continued to dance before the
world. It waltzed, seeming to mock at the people; the sea carried her
in, making her salute the land in long rhythmic reverences. Surely it
was a bark in a crazy fit. Margot, h