At the aspect of this man, already so unhappy, the good brother shuddered at the thought of what he must tell him; he was on the point of giving up the painful mission, but he took courage, and said;

"I am very sorry that my brother was so absorbed this morning, because I know he did not mean to strike the overseer. But, alas, discipline demands that he must be punished for it."

"Pardon me, father, that I was not able to repress my first movement.

Since my captivity, it was the first happy dream I have had. The blows of the whip tore me away from this cherished dream. I was furious, not with pain, but with sorrow. Besides, what matters it? I am a slave here; I will endure the punishment."

"But this punishment is cruel, my poor, unfortunate brother,--it is so cruel that I will not leave you during its execution; it is so cruel that I will be near you, and I will pray for you, and my loving hands at least shall clasp your hands contracted in agony."

The Moor looked at Father Elzear intently, then said, with an accent of resignation, almost of indifference:

"Shall I have, then, to suffer so much?"

The priest, without replying to him, pressed his hands more strongly in his own, and fixed his tearful eyes on his face.

"Yet I did my duty as a slave, the best that I could possibly do.

But what matters it!" said the Moor, sighing; "G.o.d will bless you, father, for not forsaking me. And when am I to suffer?"

"To-day--presently--"

"What must I do, good old father? Bear it, and bless G.o.d that he has sent you to me in this fatal moment."

"Poor creature!" cried Father Elzear, profoundly moved by this resignation, "you do not know, alas, what you will have to suffer!"

And, with a trembling voice, the priest explained to him in a few words the nature of the suffering he was to endure.

The Moor shuddered a little, and said: "At least, my wife and child will know nothing of it."

At this moment the captain of the mast and four soldiers, wearing ca.s.socks of black felt with white crosses, approached the bench to which the Moor was chained.

"Hugues," said Father Elzear to the captain, "suspend the execution, I pray you, until I have spoken with my brother."

The discipline established on the galley was so severe, so absolute, that the gunner looked at the priest with an undecided air, but, thanks to the respect that Father Elzear inspired, he did not dare refuse his request.

The father hastened to the chamber of the commander, in order to intercede with him for the unhappy Moor.

After having crossed the narrow pa.s.sage which conducted to his brother's apartment, he saw the key of the door enveloped in c.r.a.pe.

This sign, always respected, announced that the commander forbade absolutely and to all the entrance to his chamber.

Nevertheless, the Moor inspired such interest that Father Elzear, although well-nigh convinced of the futility of his effort, desired to make one last trial.

He entered the commander's chamber.

CHAPTER XXIII. THE COMMANDER

The spectacle which met the eyes of Father Elzear was both frightful and solemn.

The chamber, which was very small, and lighted only by two narrow windows, was hung with black.

A coffin of white wood, filled with ashes, and fastened to the floor by screws, served as a bed for Commander Pierre des Anbiez.

Above this funereal bed was suspended the portrait of a young man wearing a cuira.s.s, and leaning on a helmet. An aquiline nose, a delicate and gracefully chiselled mouth, and large, sea-green eyes gave to this face an expression which was, at the same time, proud and benevolent.

Below the frame, on a tablet, was written distinctly the date December 25,1613; a black curtain hanging near the picture could be drawn over it at pleasure.

Weapons of war, attached to a rack, const.i.tuted the sole ornaments of this gruesome habitation.

Pierre des Anbiez had not observed the entrance of his brother. On his knees before his praying-desk, the commander was half covered with a coa.r.s.e haircloth, which he wore night and day; his shoulders were bare.

By the drops of coagulated blood, and by the furrows which veined his flesh, it could be seen that he had just inflicted upon himself a b.l.o.o.d.y discipline. His bowed head rested on his two hands, and now and then convulsive shudders shook his lacerated shoulders, as if his breast heaved under the agony of suppressed sobs. The praying-desk, where he was kneeling, was placed below the two small windows, which admitted an occasional and doubtful light into this chamber.

In the midst of this dim light the pale face and long white vestments of Father Elzear contrasted strangely with the wainscoting hung with black; he looked like a spectre. He stood there as if petrified; he had never believed his brother capable of such mortifications, and, lifting his hands to Heaven, he uttered a profound sigh.

The commander started. He turned around quickly, and, seeing in the shadow the immovable figure of Father Elzear, cried, in terror:

"Are you a spirit? Do you come to ask account of the blood I have shed?" His countenance was frightful. Never remorse, never despair, never terror impressed its seal more terribly upon the brow of guilt!

His eyes, red with weeping, were fixed and haggard; his gray, closely shaven hair seemed to bristle upon his brow; his bluish lips trembled with fear, and his scraggy, muscular arms were extended before him as if they entreated a supernatural vision.

"My brother! my brother!" exclaimed Elzear, throwing himself upon the commander. "My brother, it is I; may G.o.d be with you!"

Pierre des Anbiez stared at the good brother as if he did not recognise him; then, sinking down before his praying-desk, he let his head fall on his breast, and cried, in a hollow voice:

"The Lord is never with a murderer, and yet," added he, raising his head half-way and looking at the portrait in terror, "and yet, to expiate my crime, I have placed the face of my victim always under my eyes! There, on my bed of ashes, where I seek a repose which flies from me, at every hour of the day, at every hour of the night, I behold the unrelenting face of him who says to me unceasingly, 'Murderer!

Murderer! You have shed my blood! Be accursed!'"

"My brother, oh, my brother, come back to your senses," whispered the father. He feared the voice of the commander might be heard outside.

Without replying to his brother, the commander withdrew himself from his arms, rose to the full height of his tall stature, and approached the portrait.

"For twenty years there has not pa.s.sed a day in which I have not wept my crime! For twenty years have I not tried to expiate this murder by the most cruel austerities? What more do you wish, infernal memory?

What more do you ask? You, also,--you, my victim, have you not shed blood,--the blood of my accomplice? But alas! alas! this blood, you could shed it, you,--vengeance gave you the right, while I am the infamous a.s.sa.s.sin! Oh, yes, vengeance is just! Strike, strike, then, without pity! Soon the hand of G.o.d will strike me eternally!"

Overcome by emotion, the commander, almost deprived of consciousness, again fell on his knees, half rec.u.mbent upon the coffin which served him as bed.

Father Elzear had never discovered his brother's secret. He knew him to be a prey to profound melancholy, but was ignorant of the cause, and now was frightened and distressed at the dreadful confidence betrayed in a moment of involuntary excitement.

That Pierre des Anbiez, a man of iron character, of invincible courage, should fall into such remorseful melancholy and weakness and despair, argued a cause that was terrible indeed!

The intrepidity of the commander was proverbial; in the midst of the most frightful perils, his cool daring had been the wonder of all who beheld it. His gloomy impa.s.sibility had never forsaken him before, even amid the awful combats a seaman is compelled to wage with the elements.

His courage approached ferocity. Once engaged in battle, once in the thick of the fight, he never gave quarter to the pirates. But this fever of ma.s.sacre ceased when the battle-cries of the combatants and the sight of the blood excited him no longer. Then he became calm and humane, although pitiless toward the least fault of discipline. He had sustained the most brilliant engagements with Barbary pirates. His black galley was tie terror as well as the constant aim of attack among the pirates, but, thanks to the superiority of equipment, _Our Lady of Seven Sorrows_ had never been captured, and her defeats had cost the enemy dear.

Father Elzear, seated on the edge of the coffin, sustained the head of his brother on his knees. The commander, as pale as a ghost, lay unconscious, his brow wet with a cold sweat At last he regained his consciousness, and looked around him with a sad and astonished air; then, throwing a glance upon his arms and naked shoulders, scarcely covered by the haircloth, he asked the priest, abruptly:

"How came you here, Elzear?"

"Although there was c.r.a.pe on your door, Pierre, I thought I could enter. The matter which brought me to you is a very important one."