had evidently increased—­two small leaves of a most delicate green had appeared; and every morning Louisa’s first thought after prayer was the cherished plant; but she could not see it till Desclieux had left his room, for he always kept the sacred deposit with him.  Every evening he watered it abundantly, and then let hot air into the frame by means of the tube, as he had been directed:  he kept it as close as possible to him at night, that even during sleep he might administer heat to it.  Never did bird brood over its young more fondly—­never did nurse cherish more tenderly the new-born babe.

As soon as Desclieux appeared on deck in the morning to lay his precious charge in the sun, Louisa immediately ran thither.  She delighted to point out to her mother its growth during the night, a growth imperceptible to indifferent eyes; but she had become attached to it; and as the slightest emotions are visible to us in the features of those we love, though unperceived by strangers, so she discovered the least change even in the thickness of the stalk or the length of the leaves; and Desclieux, seeing the young girl thus attaching herself to what had been confided to him, and what he so cherished, felt touched and grateful.

They met with a terrible assault when close to Madeira.  It was about the middle of a dark night, though not stormy; the vessel was gliding along noiselessly; and all on board were asleep except the officer on watch—­and indeed he too perhaps slept, or he would have heard the noise of the keel cutting the waves as a bird’s wing cuts the air, and he would have cried:  ‘Ship ahoy!’ A ship was indeed quite close to Desclieux’s vessel, and the token it gave of its vicinity was a cannonade which awoke up every one in a moment, both crew and passengers.  It was a pirate vessel of Tunis, a poor chebeck, but formidable in the night—­a time that magnifies every fear—­and formidable, too, from the desperate bravery of the banditti who manned her.  Believing themselves assailed by superior forces, the ship’s crew prepared for a resistance as vigorous, as desperate as the attack.  Better far to die than to be carried slaves to Africa!  All the passengers were at prayer, distracted, trembling, or half dead.  Louisa alone remained calm, for she was sustained by the thought that to her Desclieux had entrusted his precious charge.  The fight commenced; the ship fired eight cannon on the chebeck; and it was time, for already the captain had boarded the French ship, but was immediately cut down by Desclieux’s axe.  A last discharge of guns on each side, and the firing ceased.  The pirate felt its inferiority and retreated, while the conquerors continued their course.

Two hours of torturing suspense had passed since the terrible awakening, which but served to make the feeling of restored security the more delightful, and the remainder of the night was spent in relating the events of the rencontre.  Louisa’s was not the least interesting:  she had been regardless of danger during the combat, while watching over her charge; then she took it to Desclieux, who admired her the more—­loved her the more; for courage, always beautiful, has a still greater charm when displayed by a woman.