"I began by saving his life."
"That is true. You saved him first and then killed him."
"It was not I who killed him."
"Who did kill him, then?"
"His own fault."
The sailor stared with open mouth at the old man; then his eyebrows contracted again into a savage frown.
"What is your name?" asked the old man.
"My name is Halmalo, but I can kill you without your knowing my name."
At this moment the sun rose. A sunbeam struck the sailor full in the eyes and vividly lighted up his wild face. The old man regarded him attentively.
The cannonading which still continued, now began to be interrupted and agonizingly irregular. A dense smoke sank down over the horizon. The boat, no longer guided by the oarsman, was drifting to leeward.
The sailor drew one of the pistols out of his belt with his right hand and took his rosary in his left.
The old man rose and drew himself up to his full height.
"Do you believe in God?" he asked.
"Our Father who art in Heaven," replied the sailor, making the sign of the cross.
"Have you a mother?"
"Yes."
He made the sign of the cross a second time. Then he continued,—
"I have said it. I give you one minute, monseigneur." And he cocked his pistol.
"Why do you call me monseigneur?"
"Because you are a seigneur. That is evident."
"Have you a seigneur, yourself?"
"Yes, and a great one. Can one live without a seigneur?"
"Where is he?"
"I don't know. He has left the country. He is the Marquis de Lantenac, Viscount de Fontenay, prince in Brittany; he is the seigneur of the Sept-Forêts (seven forests). I have never seen him, but that doesn't prevent his being my master."
"And if you were to see him, would you obey him?"
