rry him away, his separation from France would be long, if not eternal.
He started suddenly amidst these thoughts and sighed: he had just
perceived a sail gliding over the waves like a phantom through the
transparent darkness of the southern night. Then a sailor's song was
heard; Murat recognised the appointed signal, and answered it by burning
the priming of a pistol, and the boat immediately ran inshore; but as she
drew three feet of water, she was obliged to stop ten or twelve feet from
the beach; two men dashed into the water and reached the beach, while a
third remained crouching in the stern-sheets wrapped in his boat-cloak.

"Well, my good friends," said the king, going towards Blancard and
Langlade until he felt the waves wet his feet "the moment is come, is it
not? The wind is favourable, the sea calm, we must get to sea."

"Yes," answered Langlade, "yes, we must start; and yet perhaps it would
be wiser to wait till to-morrow."

"Why?" asked Murat.

Langlade did not answer, but turning towards the west, he raised his
hand, and according to the habit of sailors, he whistled to call the
wind.

"That's no good," said Donadieu, who had remained in the boat. "Here are
the first gusts; you will have more than you know what to do with in a
minute.... Take care, Langlade, take care! Sometimes in calling the
wind you wake up a storm."

Murat started, for he thought that this warning which rose from the sea
had been given him by the spirit of the waters; but the impression was a
passing one, and he recovered himself in a moment.

"All the better," he said; "the more wind we have, the faster we shall
go."

"Yes," answered Langlade, "but God knows where it will take us if it goes
on shifting like this."

"Don't start to-night, sire," said Blancard, adding his voice to those of
his two companions.

"But why not?"

"You see that bank of black cloud there, don't you? Well, at sunset it
was hardly visible, now it covers a good part of the sky, in an hour
there won't be a star to be seen."

"Are you afraid?" asked Murat.

"Afraid!" answered Langlade. "Of what? Of the storm? I might as well
ask if your Majesty is afraid of a cannon-ball. We have demurred solely
on your account, sire; do you think seadogs like ourselves would delay on
account of the storm?"

"Then let us go!" cried Murat, with a sigh.

"Good-bye, Marouin.... God alone can reward you for what you have done
for me. I am at your order