He had hardly vanished from the cabin before Florette stood by the side of Julia.
"Lady," said she, "I overheard your conversation with the captain of this brig, and I pity you most truly."
"Pity will little avail," replied Julia.
"That is true, yet I would aid you if possible."
"And you—do not you, too, desire to escape from this savage?"
"Alas! lady, I have learned to love him."
"Love him!"
"I have now been on this brig more than three years. I was taken from a French merchant vessel in which I was proceeding to French Guinea, to live with a relative there, having lost all my immediate kindred in France. While crossing the Bay of Biscay, a heavy storm drove us out to sea, and while endeavoring to return in shore, we fell in with this vessel—all on board were murdered but myself, so I have been told. I was borne to this cabin, which has since been my home. I was treated with much respect by the captain, and being all alone, I don't know why it was, I forgot all his crimes, and at length became his willing mistress. You turn from me in disgust, and in pity—yet so it is. And now, lady, if you are bold enough to risk your life, you may escape."
"I would gladly give my life to save my honor."
Florette gazed with a melancholy smile upon her companion; perhaps thoughts of her own former purity came over her mind.