“Yes,” said Colville, glancing at Monsieur de Gemosac.
“More interesting, and so quick and amusing. He spoke of a heritage in France, and yet he said he was an Englishman. I hope he will secure his heritage.”
“Yes,” murmured Colville, still looking at Monsieur de Gemosac.
“And then, when we were in the boat,” continued Juliette, still in confidence to them both, “he changed quite suddenly. He was short and sharp. He ordered us to do this and that; and one did it, somehow, without question. Even Marie obeyed him without hesitating, although she was half mad with fear. We were in danger. I knew that. Any one must have known it. And yet I was not afraid; I wonder why? And he—he laughed—that was all. Mon Dieu! he was brave. I never knew that any one could be so brave!”
She broke off suddenly, with her finger to her lips; for some one had opened the cabin door. Captain Clubbe came in, filling the whole cabin with his bulk, and on his heels followed Loo Barebone, his face and hair still wet and dripping.
“Mademoiselle was wondering,” said Dormer Colville, who, it seemed, was quick to step into that silence which the object of a conversation is apt to cause—“Mademoiselle was wondering how it was that you escaped shipwreck in the storm.”
“Ah! because one has a star. Even a poor sailor may have a star, mademoiselle. As well as the Prince Napoleon, who boasts that he has one of the first magnitude, I understand.”
“You are not a poor sailor, monsieur,” said Juliette.
“Then who am I?” he asked, with a gay laugh, spreading out his hands and standing before them, beneath the swinging lamp.
The Marquis de Gemosac raised himself on one elbow.