"For Martinique?" she exclaimed.
"Yes; and for St. Lucia, Guadaloupe, and all the Leeward Isles in succession."
"Alas! what dangers are before you,—war and fever by sea and land; we shall never meet more, M. Oliver! Our term or little time of joy is past!" she exclaimed, with clasped hands.
I then inquired about the priest,—the bearer of tidings from St. Pierre. She seemed astonished, and declared that no such person had been at Boscobelle.
"Strange," said I, and then related the two occasions on which I had seen him; first, in the mangrove creek, and secondly on the highway where we had conversed near the fallen palm-tree.
"Grand Dieu! this is most singular," exclaimed Eulalie, her large dark eyes dilating with wonder; "do me the favour to describe his appearance."
In as few words as possible I did so; and while she listened she grew very pale; her eyes filled with an expression of terror, and she exclaimed, with a piercing accent,—
"'Tis Thibaud de Rouvigny you have met!"
"Rouvigny—impossible!"
"Nothing wicked or adventurous is impossible to this man," she answered mournfully.