Page:Cerise, a tale of the last century (IA cerisetaleoflast00whytrich).pdf/329

 with an effort from her daughter's embrace, muttered in deep passionate tones, "C'est lui!"

But it was no time for the exchanges of ceremonious politeness, or the indulgence of softer emotions. The house was fairly on fire, the negroes were up in arms all over the island. A boat's crew, however sturdy, is but a handful of men, and courage becomes foolhardy when it opposes itself voluntarily at odds of one against a score. Slap-Jack was the first to speak. "Askin' your pardon, ladies," said he, with seamanlike deference to the sex; "the sooner we can clear out of this here the better. If you'll have the kindness to point out your sea-chests, and possibles, and such like, Bottle-Jack here, he'll be answerable for their safety, and me an' my mates we'll run you both down to the beach and have you aboard in a pig's whisper. The island's getting hot, miss," he added confidentially to Cerise, who did not the least understand him. "In these low latitudes, a house afire and a hundred of blacks means a bobbery, just as sure as at home four old women and a goose makes a market!"

"He is right," observed the Captain, who had now recovered his presence of mind. "From what I saw as I came along, I fear there is a general rising of the slaves through the whole island. My brigantine, I need not say, is at the disposal of madame and mademoiselle (Cerise thanked him with a look), and I believe that for a time at least it will be the only safe place of refuge."

Thus speaking, he offered his hand to conduct the Marquise from the apartment, with as much courtliness and ceremony as though they had been about to dance a minuet at Versailles, under the critical eye of the late king. Hers trembled violently as she yielded it. That hand, so steady but a few minutes ago, while levelling its deadly weapon against the leader of a hundred enemies, now shook as if palsied. How little men understand women. He attributed her discomposure entirely to fright.

There is a second nature, an acquired instinct in the habits of good-breeding, irrepressible even by the gravest emergency. Captain George, conducting Madame de Montmirail down her own blazing staircase, behaved with as ceremonious a politeness as if they had been descending in