"You carry there a strange telescope, watchman!"

"The other is good to watch your enemy when he is far off; this one serves my purpose when he is near."

"Of what enemy are you speaking, watchman?"

"Of you."

"Of me?"

"Of you."

After exchanging these words, the men were silent for some time.

"You are mistaken. I am the guest of Raimond V., Baron des Anbiez,"

said the Bohemian, with emphasis.

"Is the venomous scorpion, too, the guest of the house he inhabits?"

replied Peyrou, looking steadily in his eyes.

The eyes of the vagabond kindled, and, by a muscular contraction of his cheeks, Peyrou saw that he was gnashing his teeth; nevertheless, he replied to Peyrou, with affected calmness:

"I do not deserve your reproaches, watchman. Raimond V. took pily on a poor wanderer, and offered me the hospitality of his roof--"

"And to prove your grat.i.tude to him, you wish to bring sorrow and ruin upon that roof."

"I?"

"Yes, you,--you are in communication with that chebec down there, beating about the horizon."

The Bohemian looked at the vessel with the most indifferent air in the world, and replied:

"On my life, I have never set foot on a ship; as to the communication which you suppose I have with that boat, that you call a chebec, I believe,--I doubt if my voice or my signal could reach it."

The watchman threw a penetrating glance on the Bohemian, and said to him:

"You have never set foot on the deck of a ship?"

"Never, except on those boats on the Rhone, for I was born in Languedoc, on the highway; my father and mother belonged to a band of Bohemians which came from Spain, and the only recollection that I have of my childhood is the refrain so often sung in our wandering clan:

"'Cuando me pario Mi madre la gitana.'

"That is all I know of my birth,--all the family papers I have, watchman."

"The Bohemians of Spain speak Arabic also," said Peyrou, observing the vagabond attentively.

"They say so. I know no other language than the one I speak,--very badly, as you see."

"The sun is setting behind those great clouds down there; for one who is fond of that sight you seem to be quite indifferent to it,"

answered the watchman, with an ironical air. "No doubt the chebec interests you more."

"To-morrow evening I can see the sun set; to-day I would rather spend my time in guessing your riddles, watchman."

During this conversation, the syndic of the overseers had not lost sight of the vessel, which continued to beat about, evidently waiting for a signal.

Although the appearance of this vessel was suspicious, Peyrou hesitated to give the alarm on the coast by kindling the fire. To set the whole seash.o.r.e in excitement unnecessarily was a dangerous precedent, because some other time, in case of real danger, the signal might be taken for a false alarm.

While the watchman was absorbed in these reflections, the Bohemian looked around him uneasily; he was trying to discover some traces of the eagle, as from the rock where he had been squatting, he had seen Brilliant alight in this direction.

For a moment he thought of getting rid of Peyrou, but he soon renounced this idea. The watchman, strong and well-armed, was on his guard.

Peyrou, notwithstanding the anger that the presence of the vagabond inspired in him, feared to see him descend again to the castle of Maison-Forte, as Raimond V. did not suspect this wretch. Besides, seeing his wicked designs discovered, the villain might attempt some diabolical scheme before he left the country.

However, it was impossible to abandon his sentry-box under such serious circ.u.mstances, in order to warn the baron. Night was approaching, and the Bohemian was still there.

Happily, the moon was almost full; in spite of the densely piled clouds, her light was bright enough to reveal all the manoeuvres of the chebec.

The Bohemian, his arms crossed on his breast, surveyed Peyrou, with imperturbable coolness.

"You see the sun has set," said this old seaman, "the night will be cold; you had better return to Maison-Forte."

"I intend to spend the night here," replied the vagabond.

The watchman, made furious by the remark, rose, and walking up to the Bohemian with a threatening air, said:

"And by Our Lady, I swear that you shall descend to the beach this instant!"

"And suppose I do not wish to go."

"I will kill you."

The Bohemian shrugged his shoulders.

"You will not kill me, watchman, and I will remain."

Peyrou raised his pistol, and exclaimed: "Take care!"

"Would you kill a defenceless man, who has never done you any harm? I defy you," said the vagabond, without moving from the spot.

The watchman dropped his arm; he revolted at the thought of murder. He replaced his pistol in his belt, and walked back and forth in violent agitation. He found himself in a singular position,--he could not rid himself of this persistent villain by fear or force; he must then resolve to pa.s.s the night on guard.

He resigned himself to this last alternative, hoping that next day some one might appear, and he would be able to rid himself of the Bohemian.

"Very well, let it be," said he, with a forced smile. "Although I have not invited you to be my companion, we will pa.s.s the night by the side of each other."

"And you will not repent it, watchman. I am not a sailor, but I have a telescope. If the chebec annoys you, I will a.s.sist you in watching it."

After some moments of silence, the watchman seated himself on a piece of the rock.