“‘Ah, Monsieur Yellowley, vous êtes un homme dangereux!’
“Would you believe it, Mr. Tramp, that little phrase filled every chamber of my heart with hope; there could be but one interpretation of it, and what a meaning had that,—dangerous to the peace of mind, to the heart’s happiness of her I actually adored! I lay down in my berth and tried to sleep; but the nearest approach of slumber was a dreamy condition, in which the words vous êtes un homme dangereux kept ever ringing. I thought I saw Lady Blanche dressed in white, with a veil covering her, a chaplet of orange flowers on her brow, and weeping as though inconsolably; and there was a grim, mischievous little face that nodded at me with a menacing expression, as though to say, ‘This is your work, Simon Yellowley;’ and then I saw her lay aside the veil and encircle herself with a sad-colored garment, while her tears fell even faster than before; and then the little vixen from the window exclaimed, ‘Here’s more of it, Simon Yellowley.’ Lord, how I reproached myself,—I saw I was bringing her to the grave; yes, sir, there is no concealing it. I felt she loved me. I arose and put on my dressing-gown; my mind was made up. I slipped noiselessly up the cabin-stairs, and with much difficulty made my way to that part of the ship inhabited by the servants. I will not recount here the insolent allusions I encountered, nor the rude jests and jibes of the sailors when I asked for Mademoiselle Virginie; nor was it without trouble and considerable delay that I succeeded in obtaining an interview with her.
“‘Mademoiselle,’ said I, ‘I know the levity of your nation; no man is more conscious than I of—of the frailty of your moral principles. Don’t be angry, but hear me out. You said a few minutes ago that I was a “dangerous man;” tell me now, sincerely, truthfully, and candidly,’—here I put rather a heavy purse into her hands,—‘the exact meaning you attached to these words.’
“‘Ah, Monsieur,’ said she, with a stage shudder, ‘je suis une pauvre fille, ne me perdez pas.’
“I looked at the little wizened devil, and never felt stronger in my virtue.
“‘Don’t be afraid, Virginie, I’m an archbishop in principles; but I thought that when you said these words they bore an allusion to another—’
“‘Ah! c’est ça,’ said she, with perfect naïveté,—‘so you are, a dangerous man, a very dangerous man; so much so, indeed, that I shall use all my influence to persuade one, of whom you are aware, to escape as quickly as may be from the hazard of your fascinating society.’
“I repeat these words, Mr. Tramp, which may appear to you now too flattering; but the French language, in which Virginie spoke, permits expressions even stronger than these, as mere conventionalities.
“‘Don’t do it,’ said I, ‘don’t do it, Virginie.’
“‘I must, and I will,’ reiterated she; ‘there’s such a change in my poor dear Lady Blanche since she met you; I never knew her give way to fits of laughing before,—she’s so capricious and whimsical,—she was an angel formerly.’