M. de Barmont smiled disdainfully.
"This man is beneath my contempt," he said; "whatever he may say I will not take the slightest vengeance on him—he is pardoned beforehand, I pledge him my word as a gentleman."
"Now speak, Major," said Michael; "during that time I will go on deck again with Skipper Nicaud, or, if you prefer it, Bowline, who has played his part remarkably well throughout the affair."
Michael left the cabin, and the two men remained alone.
The Major understood that it was better to make a clean breast of it: hence he told the Count, without any equivocation, the full details of his treachery, and in what manner Michael had compelled him to save him, when, on the contrary, he was paid to ruin him.
Although the name of the Duc de Peñaflor had not once been mentioned during the Major's narration, the Count divined that it was he alone who had dealt him all the blows he had felt so severely during the last eighteen months; however great his resolution might be, this depth of hatred, this Machiavellian vengeance terrified him; but in this extremely detailed narrative one point seemed to him obscure, and that was, how Michael had discovered the final machinations of his enemies, and done so opportunely enough to be able to foil them.
All the questions the Count asked on this head the Major was unable to answer, for he was ignorant.
"Well," asked the sailor, suddenly entering the cabin, "are you now informed, Captain?"
"Yes," the latter replied, with a certain tinge of sadness, "except on one point."
"What is it, Captain?"