“No; I hate it. But I am glad to come back,” he said.
“Monsieur will be welcomed by his people. It is a great power, the voice of the people.” For the captain was a Republican.
“It is the bleating of sheep, mon capitaine,” returned de Vasselot, with a laugh.
They stood side by side in silence while the steamer crept steadily forward into the shallow bay. Already a boat had left the town wall, and was sailing out leisurely on the evening breeze towards them. It came alongside. De Vasselot gave some last instructions to the captain, said farewell, and left the ship. It was a soldier's breeze, and the boat ran free. In a few minutes de Vasselot stepped ashore. The abbé was waiting for him at the steps. It was almost dark, but de Vasselot could see the priest's black eyes flashing with some new excitement. De Vasselot held out his hand, but Susini made a movement, of which the new-comer recognized the significance in his quick way. He took a step forward, and they embraced after the manner of the French.
“Voilà!” said the abbé, “we are friends at last.”
“I have always known that you were mine,” answered Lory.
“Good. And now I have bad news for you. A friend's privilege, Monsieur le Comte.”
“Ah,” said Lory, looking sharply at him.
“Your father. I have found him and lost him again. I found him where I knew he would be, in the macquis, living the life that they live there, with perfect tranquillity. Jean was with him. By some means or other Jean got wind of a proposed investigation of the château. The Peruccas people have been stirred up lately; but that is a long story which I cannot tell you now. At all events, they quitted the château a few hours before the house was mysteriously burnt down. To-day I received a message from Jean. Your father left their camp before daybreak to-day. All night he had been restless. He was in a panic that the Peruccas are seeking him. He is no longer responsible, mon ami; his mind is gone. From his muttered talk of the last few days, they conclude that he is making his way south to Bonifacio, in order to cross the straits from there to Sardinia. He is on foot, alone, and deranged. There is my news.”
“And Jean?” asked de Vasselot, curtly; for he was quick in decision and in action.