“There is no great harm done,” said Monsieur Pascal, still gazing through his glass. “They have picked up two ladies and three children; and none seem to be missing.”
“It is well that you and Monsieur were not there, Euphrosyne,” observed Afra.
Euphrosyne shuddered, and Pierre looked all amazement at the absurdity of such an idea.
“No fear for us, Mademoiselle,” said he. “See how empty the streets are, down below. None but the guard left, within half a mile.”
It did indeed appear as if the whole population of the town and plain was collected on the shores of the bay. Those who had thrown themselves into the sea had to wait for a footing on land, unless they chose to swim round the point—which some of them did. When at length the crowd began to move up into the town, it was because the Commander-in-chief was riding away, after having addressed the people.
“What have you been about, child?” exclaimed Monsieur Revel, an hour after. “You are never beside me when I wake.”
Euphrosyne did not point out that this was the first time she had failed to watch his siesta. She said that she had been seeing the Commissary set sail.
“What, already! He is in a great hurry, I think.”
“The wind is quite fair, grandpapa. I suppose that is the reason why he made all the ships in the harbour sail the same way. He has carried off three frigates, and all the shipping in the roads. The sea is quite clear, grandpapa. There is not a single sail in sight, all along, as far as you can see. They are all off for France.”
“What in the world made him do that?”