She burst into a paroxysm of bitter tears, but they relieved the overcharged fountains of her soul.
"It will do her good," exclaimed her kind protectress.
Jacques Belot gnashed his teeth.
"She said 'he' and she has seen him," he muttered. "I know what it means well enough. That vile Englishman has gone back on her. I have seen him, I can recall his face like a book. He is a lord, they say; his name is Maltravers. You see I forget nothing. We shall meet one day, and it seems to me that there will be a little account for me to square with Mr. Englishman—sacré-e-e!"
Presently Adéle recognized Jacques, and greeted him as an old friend, but not as a former lover.
To him and the captain's wife she related her story, gaining much sympathy from them.
"Forget this milor'," said the captain's wife.
"Impossible," rejoined Adéle.
"He is unworthy of you. Go to America and marry this brave fellow who loves you and has saved your life."
Adéle shook her head sadly.