In the shelter of the forecastle there was comparative quiet and safety. A figure wrapped in a cloak was standing in the deepest shadow, and moved towards him as he came up. He could hardly believe his senses. It was Marguerite!
"My love!" he exclaimed, folding her tenderly in his arms, and drawing her farther back into the shelter. "That you should be here, and in such a storm!"
As he spoke, a wave struck the vessel amidships, sent the spray in a shower over them, and fell with a great thud at their feet.
"That was a narrow escape," Claude went on. "Had we been a foot nearer the stern we should have been dashed against the bulwarks, and the whole ship would have known of our meeting here. But what has brought you out, my darling? Is anything wrong? I shudder when I think of the risks you must have run in getting here in this wind."
"The storm is glorious, Claude, and a little salt water will not hurt me. I could not stay below. You will think me foolish, but I had a dream about you—such a dreadful dream that I felt as if I must come to see that you were safe. I thought I saw you in the toils of a monstrous serpent. It had wound itself about you, and seemed to be crushing you in its folds. I tried to tear it off, but it seized you the closer; and as I stood back and gazed at it in horror it seemed to take the form and features of that wretched creature in green who follows my uncle about all day like a whipped cur."
"Sweetheart," said her lover, "it was a blessed dream, since it brought you to me. It gives me new life to see you. But I do not wonder that the sight of that fellow should give you nightmare. The first time I saw him I could not help christening him the sea-serpent. His baleful eye seems to be always upon me. If I should meet him to-night I should be tempted to send him back to the ocean depths from whence he looks as if he had but lately come."
"Dear, do not joke about him. I am not superstitious, but I fear that man, and would have you be on your guard against him. It was to warn you about him that I risked coming to you to-night."
She was much agitated, and Claude soothed and comforted her, wrapping her cloak about her to shield her from the storm, and reassuring her with promises and tender words.
While this scene was taking place on deck, a very different one was going on below, in Roberval's cabin. Gaillon, who must have been so constituted that he could do without sleep, had seen Marguerite leave her cabin and ascend the gangway. He knew that Claude had gone on deck, and there was no doubt that the lovers were together. Now was his chance. He stole to De Roberval's cabin, opened the door by some means best known to himself, and, entering, touched the sleeping nobleman on the shoulder.
Roberval was on his feet in an instant, and a dagger flashed at Gaillon's throat. The man was prepared, however, and backed quickly towards the door, where the light from the passage shone full upon his face. Roberval uttered an oath when he saw who it was.