Chapter Thirty Two.
Tired out with the fatigue of the day before, Philip had laid himself down by Krantz and fallen asleep; early the next morning he was awakened by the sound of the commandant’s voice, and his long sword rattling as usual upon the pavement. He rose, and found the little man rating the soldiers—threatening some with the dungeons, others with extra duty. Krantz was also on his feet before the commandant had finished his morning’s lecture. At last, perceiving them, in a stern voice he ordered them to follow him into his apartment. They did so, and the commandant, throwing himself upon his sofa, inquired whether they were ready to sign the required paper, or go back to the dungeon. Krantz replied that they had been calculating chances and that they were in consequence so perfectly convinced of the death of the captain, that they were willing to sign any paper to that effect; at which reply, the commandant immediately became very gracious, and having called for materials, he wrote out the document, which was duly subscribed to by Krantz and Philip. As soon as they had signed it, and he had it in his possession, the little man was so pleased, that he requested them to partake of his breakfast.
During the repast, he promised that they should leave the island by the first opportunity. Although Philip was taciturn, yet, as Krantz made himself very agreeable, the commandant invited them to dinner. Krantz, as they became more familiar, informed him that they had each a few pieces of gold, and wished to be allowed a room where they could keep their table. Whether it was the want of society or the desire of obtaining the gold, probably both, the commandant offered that they should join his table, and pay their proportion of the expenses; a proposal which was gladly acceded to. The terms were arranged, and Krantz insisted upon putting down the first week’s payment in advance. From that moment the commandant was the best of friends with them, and did nothing but caress them whom he had so politely shoved into a dungeon below water. It was on the evening of the third day, as they were smoking their Manilla cheroots that Krantz, perceiving the commandant in a peculiarly good humour, ventured to ask him why he was so anxious for a certificate of the captain’s death; and in reply was informed, much to the astonishment of Philip, that Amine had agreed to marry him upon his producing such a document.
“Impossible!” cried Philip, starting from his seat.
“Impossible, signor,—and why impossible?” replied the commandant, curling his mustachios with his fingers, with a surprised and angry air.
“I should have said impossible too,” interrupted Krantz, who perceived the consequences of Philip’s indiscretion, “for had you seen, commandant, how that woman doated upon her husband, how she fondled him, you would with us have said, it was impossible that she could have transferred her affections so soon; but women are women, and soldiers have a great advantage over other people; perhaps she has some excuse, commandant.—Here’s your health, and success to you.”
“It is exactly what I would have said,” added Philip, acting upon Krantz’s plan: “but she has a great excuse, commandant, when I recollect her husband, and have you in my presence.”
Soothed with the flattery, the commandant replied, “Why, yes, they say military men are very successful with the fair sex.—I presume it is because they look up to us for protections and where can they be better assured of it, than with a man who wears a sword at his thigh?—Come, signors we will drink her health. Here’s to the beautiful Amine Vanderdecken.”
“To the beautiful Amine Vanderdecken!” cried Krantz, tossing off his wine.