“Ah, how dreadful—how dreadful! And my father, my poor father!” cried Reine, bursting into tears.
This sincere sorrow tore the heart of Erebus; he felt the whole extent of his crime.
“Oh! for pity—for pity’s sake, do not weep so!” cried he, his own eyes full of tears. “I see my wrongs now. Tell me, what do you wish me to do to expiate them? I will do it,—command me,’—my life is yours.” “Then send me back to my father, this very instant. My father, my father! if he knows of this capture, what a terrible blow for him! It is a crime for which you will always have to reproach yourself.”
“Spurn me,—I deserve it,—but at least do not forget that I saved the life of your father.”
“And what matters that, since you have saved it only to make him so wretched now? I shall think of you henceforth, not to bless you, but to curse you—”
“No, no!” cried Erebus, rising to his feet. “No, you will not curse me! You will say, yes, you will soon say that your words have snatched an unhappy soul from the abyss which was about to engulf it for ever. Listen to me. This city is now happy and peaceful. The pirates are near: let the signal be given from this chebec,—death, pillage, and flames will desolate this coast—”
“My God! my God! oh, my father!” cried Reine.
“Take courage, that signal shall not be given. I will save this city. You are in my power, and this very hour, I will have you carried back to land. Ah, well, then say—oh, say, if I do that,” implored Erebus, with profound sadness, “will you think of me sometimes without anger and without contempt?”
“I will never thank God, for having restored me to my father, without thinking with gratitude of the saviour of the Baron des Anbiez,” said Reine, with dignity.
“And Erebus shall be worthy of your remembrance!” cried the young pirate. “I am going now to prepare for your departure, and I shall return for you.”