“We?—­who?”

“My wife and I,” said the other, laughing

“You, comrade?  I will manage for you; but your wife will stop here.”

“Stop here?”

“Why, you don’t suppose I can give up the good girl I have loved for the six years I’ve been rolling over the seas!  ’Tis true, she doesn’t remember me, and thinks me dead; but when she learns the truth, all the old love will come back; and she will like me none the less for aiding you.  The burgomaster, who shall be in the plot, shall marry you to my wife,—­and when you are gone, God speed you!  The burgomaster will set all that right, as he can; and Bertha and I will often talk, in our seaside cot, of the French officer that we saved.”

Here Doome interrupted the dialogue; for she could not conquer her curiosity farther.  So she came up, and complimented the French officer (who was to be called Daniel) on his marriage.  “To be sure, he had almost forgotten German; for, as Bertha said, he had left home almost before he could speak like a man, and had been in the French service,—­and so there it was!  No doubt, now he had come back to Germany, he would soon learn German again, and speak it like a native;—­eh, friend sailor?” “What, little one?  I didn’t hear you.”

The “little one,” not dissatisfied at that term, flounced round, and then gave a little scream,—­for all the neighbors, with the burgomaster at their head, were approaching the little house.  When they arrived, and the change of husbands was announced, not a neighbor but framed a little mental history,—­and, indeed, Jodoque cut rather a ridiculous figure.  As for the burgomaster,—­who knew the real Daniel, having discoursed with him about the French fleet riding off the island, that very morning,—­his dignity prevented him from suddenly spoiling matters.  Before he could sufficiently recover himself from the blow which his dignity had received, Daniel came up to him and said these two words,—­“Your neck!”

“What do you mean, young man?”

“Suppose the French took Ruegen?”

“Well, suppose they did?”

“And suppose you had caused the recapture of a French officer?”

“I haven’t the least idea that I have caused a recapture; but suppose so?”

“Well, and if he was hung, and if the French took the place, you’d be hung too.”

“What do you mean, young man?”

“That man over there is the French officer who has escaped.”

“Good gracious me!”

“Yes, and you must suppose him to be me.  Marry him to Bertha, and help him to escape to the French fleet.”

“No!—­on the faith of a burgomaster, no!—­on the word of a German, no!”

“But your neck?”

“I don’t care.  The French may not take the place.”

“And the French may.  Who’ll be the wiser, burgomaster?”

“My conscience, young sailor.”

“And you’ll save a man.”

“Oh, dear! dear! dear!”