"'To lose, and take my revenge to-morrow.'
"De Morin groaned, for he saw, by the look on my face, that I was to be feared. The next day we entered the Bay of Naples, and the weather was perfect. De Morin was standing up, leaning against one of the shrouds, telescope in hand, and contemplating, with evident enjoyment, the magnificent panorama which was unrolling itself before his eyes. The unhappy man turned his head, changed colour, and, at the given sign, followed me. But when he saw me wending my way towards the companion-ladder, which led to between-decks, when it became evident that, regardless of the lovely weather, the blue sky, and the splendid view, I was going to make him descend into the depths of the hold, to bury him in those submarine catacombs, he begged for mercy, and proposed an arrangement.
"I condescended to listen to him, and it was there and then agreed upon between us that if I did not insist on too prolonged parties, he on his side, would not cut them too short. So we have agreed to play for two hours each day.
"Au revoir, my dear fellow. De Morin is waiting for me to have a real good game at piquet."
"Well!" exclaimed de Pommerelle, "these three letters have given me an admirable idea of Africa!"
By way of calming his agitation, he took up a pen, and, in his turn, indited the following telegram:—
"If you, false friends, do not keep your promise, I will not send any more cigars, and you will die of despair for want of a smoke. "POMMERELLE."
CHAPTER XIX.
FROM M. PÉRIÈRES TO M. DE POMMERELLE.
"Even for a man habitually unjust, you are the most unjust man I know. Our two friends chat to you in the most genial manner possible about all their little affairs; in your society they rest from the cares of the voyage; they do their best to forget their annoyances, and, I may as well confess it, a certain amount of apprehension, which the very bravest of us cannot help experiencing when on the eve of what very probably may turn out to be a series of hazardous adventures. They turn their eyes from the horizon, where already ominous dark clouds are gathering, sit themselves down in spirit once more in your smoking-room, in the very heart of Paris, and, whilst chatting of this, that, and the other, imagine themselves, for the moment, to be there in reality.