pcey, very far from it. Here, you see, he could not have come
twice without betraying the secret of your existence."

"But where are we going?" asked Mrs. Bertolle.

"To the Hotel du Louvre, dear sister, where you will take rooms for Mrs.
and Miss Bertolle. Be calm; my plans are laid."

Thereupon, he ran out on the staircase to call the concierge to help him
in taking down the trunks.

Although the manoeuvres required by Papa Ravinet's appearance on board
"The Saint Louis" had taken but little time, the delay had been long
enough to prevent the ship from going through all the formalities that
same evening. She had, therefore, to drop anchor at some distance from
the harbor, to the great disgust of the crew, who saw Marseilles all
ablaze before them, and who could count the wineshops, and hear the
songs of the half-drunken people as they walked down the wharves in
merry bands.

The least unhappy of them all was, for once, Daniel. The terrible
excitement he had undergone had given way to utter prostration. His
nerves, strained to the utmost, relaxed; and he felt the delight of a
man who can at last throw down a heavy burden which he has long borne
on his shoulders. Papa Ravinet had given him no details; but he did not
regret it, he hardly noticed it. He knew positively that his Henrietta
was alive; that she was in safety; and that she still loved him. That
was enough.

"Well, lieutenant," said Lefloch, delighted at his master's joy, "did I
not tell you? Good wind during the passage always brings good news upon
landing."

That night, while "The Saint Louis" was rocking lazily over her anchors,
was the first night, since Daniel had heard of Count Ville-Handry's
marriage, that he slept with that sweet sleep given by hope. He was only
aroused by the noise of the people who came in the quarantine boat;
and, when he came on deck, he found that there was nothing any longer to
prevent his going on shore. The men had been actively engaged ever since
early in the morning, to set things right aloft and below, so as to
"dress" "The Saint Louis;" for every ship, when it enters port, is
decked out gayly, and carefully conceals all traces of injuries she has
suffered, like the carrier-pigeon, which, upon returning to his nest
after a storm, dries and smooths his feathers in the sun.

Soon the anchors were got up again; and the great clock on the wharf
struck twelve, when Daniel jumped on the wharf at Marseilles, followed
by hi