You have not married my daughter: I defrauded you by a false marriage. You shall never see her again—she is dead to you. For many years there has been an implacable hatred between your family and mine. I should not have gone to seek you, but Heaven itself brought you in my way. I understood that it was desired I should avenge myself, and I obeyed. I believe that I have succeeded in breaking your heart forever. The love you have for my daughter is sincere and deep. All the better, for you will suffer the more cruelly. Farewell, my lord. Believe me, you had better not try to find me, for, if you succeed, my vengeance will be even more terrible. My daughter will marry in a month the man she loves, and whom alone she has ever loved.
"Don Estevan de Sylva, Duc de Peñaflor."
When the sailor had finished reading he turned an enquiring glance to his chief. The latter shook his head several times, but made no other reply.
Michael handed back the letter, which the Captain at once concealed beneath his pillow.
"What do you intend to do?" the sailor asked him, a moment after.
"You shall know hereafter," the Count answered, in a hollow voice. "I could not form a determination now, for my head is still heavy, and I require to reflect."
Michael gave a nod of assent.
At this moment the doctor came in. He appeared delighted at seeing his patient in so good a state, and with a joyous rubbing of his hands, promised that he should leave his bed in a week at the latest.
In fact, the surgeon was not mistaken, for the Count rapidly recovered; ere long he was able to rise, and at the end of a few days, were it not for a cadaverous pallor spread over his face, and which he ever retained, his strength seemed to have entirely come back to him.
M. de Barmont steered his frigate up the Tagus, and anchored before Lisbon. So soon as the vessel was moored the Captain summoned the second in command to his cabin, and had a long conversation with him, after which he went ashore with Michael and Bowline.