He dragged him near the window and looked quickly at him. Then he turned pale himself, and wrung his hand.
"Yes!" said he, "yes!—it is Daniel himself,—the very Daniel!"
"Ah! so much the better!" said Doome.
"Daniel? the very Daniel?" said Bertha, faintly, and turned paler yet.
"I know you, comrade," said the sailor, aside,—"I know you. You are the French officer who has escaped, but I'm down in your log for a lump of gratitude; and so, you are Daniel. When a fellow saves you from a shark, perhaps you'll be as willing to give him your name."
"And why am I to take your name?"
"To give it to Bertha, there!"
"Give it to Bertha?"
"Yes! Sign the contract, which the burgomaster has in his pocket; sign it as Daniel;—'tis your only chance. And when you are gone, I have paid my debt. And don't let us cross each other again. You gave me my life, but that is no reason you should rob me of my wife!"
"Rob you of your wife?"