Of course Colonel Gilbert knew the captain of the Persévérance. Was he not friendly with the driver of the St. Florent diligence? All who brought news from the outside world were the friends of this idle soldier.
“Good morning, captain,” he cried. “What news of France?”
The captain was a jovial man, with unkempt hair and a smoke-grimed face.
“News, colonel,” he answered. “It is not quite ready yet. The emperor is always brewing it in the Tuileries, but it is not ripe for the public palate yet.”
“Ah!”
“And in the mean time,” said the captain, testing with his foot the tautness of the hawser that moored the Persévérance to the quay—“in the mean time they are busy at Cherbourg and Toulon. As to the army, you probably know that better than I, mon colonel.”
And he finished with his jovial laugh. Then he jerked his thumb in the direction of the steamer.
“Your newspapers are, no doubt, in the mail-bags,” he said. “We had a good passage, and are a full ship. Of passengers I have two—and ladies. One, by the way, is the heiress of Mattei Perucca over at Olmeta, whom you doubtless knew.”
The colonel turned, and looked towards the steamer with some interest.
“Is that so?” he said reflectively.