“In this boat I found a lady murdered, and lying in her blood. She was quite dead, and close to her was a little child who appeared to be dying.
“I picked up the child—that child is now the man before us; his name is Fabian.
“I took the child with me, and left the murdered lady in the boat. I do not know who committed the crime, and have nothing further to say.”
As he finished speaking, Bois-Rose again covered his head, and seated himself in silence.
A mournful silence followed this declaration.
Fabian lowered his flashing eyes for an instant to the ground, then raised them, calm and cold, to the face of the ex-carabinier, whose turn had now come to speak.
Fabian was prepared to act his terrible part, and the countenance as well as the attitude of the young man, though clothed in rags, expressed the nobility which characterised an ancient race, as well as the collected coolness of a judge. He cast an authoritative glance towards Pepé, and the half savage trapper was compelled to submit to it in silence.
Pepé at length rose, and advanced a few paces, by his manner showing a determination only to utter that which his conscience approved.
“I understand you, Count Mediana,” said he, addressing himself to Fabian, who alone in his eyes had the right to assume this title. “I will try to forget that the man here present is the same who caused me to spend so many long years among the refuse of mankind at Ceuta. When I appear before God He may require of me the words I have spoken, but I should again repeat them, nor regret that they had ever been uttered.”
Fabian made a gesture of approbation.