Gilliatt gave him the belt and the box containing the three thousand pounds stolen by Clubin.  Again Lethierry was thrown into a wild amazement.  “Did anyone ever see a man like Gilliatt?” he concluded.  “I was struck down to the ground, I was a dead man.  He comes and sets me up again as firm as ever.  And all the while I was never thinking of him.  He had gone clean out of my mind; but I recollect everything now.  Poor lad!  Ah, by the way, you know you are to marry Derouchette.”

Gilliatt leaned with his back against the wall, like one who staggers, and said, in a tone very low, but distinct, “No.”

Lethierry started.  “How, no?”

“I do not love her.”

Lethierry laughed that idea to scorn.  He was wild with joy.  Gilliatt, his son, his preserver, should marry Derouchette—­he, and none other.  Neighbours had begun to flock in, roused by the bell.  The room was crowded.  Derouchette presently glided in, and was espied by Lethierry in the crowd.  He seized her; told her the news.  “We are rich again!  And you shall marry the prodigy who has done this thing.”  His eye fell upon the man who had followed Derouchette into the room; it was the young priest whom Gilliatt had rescued from the seat in the rock.  “Ah, you are there, Monsieur le Cure,” exclaimed the old man; “you will marry these young people for us.  There’s a fine fellow!” he cried, and pointed to Gilliatt.

Gilliatt’s appearance was hideous.  He was in the condition in which he had that morning set sail from the rocks—­in rags, his bare elbows showing through his sleeves, his beard long, his hair rough and wild, his eyes bloodshot, his skin peeling, his hands covered with wounds, his feet naked and torn.  Some of the blisters left by the devil-fish were still visible upon his arms.

“This is my son-in-law!” cried Lethierry.  “How he has struggled with the sea!  He is all in rags.  What shoulders!  What hands!  There’s a splendid fellow!”

But Lethierry did not know Gilliatt.  The poor broken creature escaped from the room.  He himself made all the arrangements for the marriage of the priest and Derouchette; he placed the special license in their hands, secured a priest for the purpose, and secured passages for them in the ship waiting in the roads for England.

When he had done all this, he made his way to the seat in the cliff, and sat there waiting to see the ship appear round the bight and disappear on the horizon.

The ship appeared with the slowness of a phantom.  Gilliatt watched it.  Suddenly a touch and a sensation of cold caused him to look down.  The sea had reached his feet.

He lowered his eyes, then raised them again.  The ship was quite near.  The rock in which the rains had hollowed out this giant’s seat was so completely vertical, and there was so much water at its base, that in calm weather vessels were able to pass without danger within a few cables’ length.