"A coquette's fancy," replied La Vieuville.
[IX.]
SOME ONE ESCAPES.
The passenger had not left the deck; he watched all that was going on with his customary impassibility.
Boisberthelot went up to him.
"Sir," he said, "the preparations are completed. We are now clinging to our grave; we shall not relax our hold. We must succumb either to the squadron or to the reef. The alternative is before us: either shipwreck among the breakers or surrender to the enemy. But the resource of death is still left; better to fight than be wrecked. I would rather be shot than drowned; fire before water, if the choice be left to me. But where it is our duty to die it is not yours. You are the man chosen by princes. You have an important mission,—that of directing the Vendean war. Your death might result in the failure of monarchy; therefore you must live. While honor requires us to stand by the ship, it calls on you to escape. You must leave us, General; I will provide you with a boat and a man. You may succeed in reaching the shore, by making a détour. It is not yet daylight; the waves are high and the sea dark. You will probably escape. There are occasions when to flee means to conquer."
The old man bent his stately head in token of acquiescence.
Count Boisberthelot raised his voice.
"Soldiers and sailors!" he called.