Part 12 (1/2)

The young man wore a round hat and a white cravat; and his long black frock-coat was b.u.t.toned up to the neck. He had fair hair, which he wore _en couronne_. He had a somewhat feminine cast of features, a clear eye, a grave manner.

Meanwhile the boat had touched the ground. Gilliatt pa.s.sed the cable through the mooring-ring, then turned and perceived the young man holding out a sovereign in a very white hand.

Gilliatt moved the hand gently away.

There was a pause. The young man was the first to break the silence.

”You have saved me from death.”

”Perhaps,” replied Gilliatt.

The moorings were made fast, and they went ash.o.r.e.

The stranger continued--

”I owe you my life, sir.”

”No matter.”

This reply from Gilliatt was again followed by a pause.

”Do you belong to this parish?”

”No,” replied Gilliatt.

”To what parish, then?”

Gilliatt lifted up his right hand, pointed to the sky, and said--

”To that yonder.”

The young man bowed, and left him.

After walking a few paces, the stranger stopped, felt in his pocket, drew out a book, and returning towards Gilliatt, offered it to him.

”Permit me to make you a present of this.”

Gilliatt took the volume.

It was a Bible.

An instant after, Gilliatt, leaning upon the parapet, was following the young man with his eyes as he turned the angle of the path which led to St. Sampson.

By little and little he lowered his gaze, forgot all about the stranger--knew no more whether the ”Gild-Holm-'Ur” existed. Everything disappeared before him in the bottomless depth of a reverie.

There was one abyss which swallowed up all his thought. This was Deruchette.

A voice calling him, aroused him from this dream.