The corvette had no light forward, fearing to betray its passage through these guarded waters.  They congratulated themselves on the fog.  The Grande Etape was reached; the mist was so dense that the lofty outlines of the Pinnacle were scarcely visible.  They heard it strike ten from the belfry of Saint-Ouen,—­a sign that the wind was still aft.  All was going well; the sea grew rougher, because they were drawing near La Corbiere.

A little after ten, the Count Boisberthelot and the Chevalier de la Vieuville escorted the man in the peasant garb to the door of his cabin, which was the captain’s own room.  As he was about to enter, he remarked, lowering his voice:—­

“You understand the importance of keeping the secret, gentlemen.  Silence up to the moment of explosion.  You are the only ones here who know my name.”

“We will carry it to the grave,” replied Boisberthelot.

“And for my part, I would not reveal it were I face to face with death,” remarked the old man.

And he entered his stateroom.

The commander and the first officer returned on deck, and began to pace up and down side by side, talking as they walked.  The theme was evidently their passenger; and this was the substance of the conversation which the wind wafted through the darkness.  Boisberthelot grumbled half audibly to La Vieuville,—­

“It remains to be seen whether or no he is a leader.”

La Vieuville replied,—­

“Meanwhile he is a prince.”

“Almost.”

“A nobleman in France, but a prince in Brittany.”

“Like the Tremouilles and the Rohans.”

“With whom he is connected.”

Boisberthelot resumed,—­

“In France and in the carriages of the king he is a marquis,—­as I am a count, and you a chevalier.”

“The carriages are far away!” exclaimed Vieuville.  “We are living in the time of the tumbril.”

A silence ensued.

Boisberthelot went on,—­

“For lack of a French prince we take one from Brittany.”

“For lack of thrushes—­No:  since an eagle is not to be found, we take a crow.”

“I should prefer a vulture,” remarked Boisberthelot.

La Vieuville replied,—­

“Yes, indeed, with a beak and talons.”

“We shall see.”

“Yes,” replied Vieuville, “it is time there was a leader.  I agree with Tinteniac,—­a leader and gunpowder!  See here, commander, I know nearly all the possible and impossible leaders,—­those of yesterday, those of to-day, and those of to-morrow.  Not one of them has the head required for war.  In this cursed Vendee a general is needed who would be a lawyer as well as a leader.  He must harass the enemy, dispute every bush, ditch, and stone; he must force unlucky quarrels upon him, and take advantage of everything; vigilant and pitiless, he must watch incessantly, slaughter freely, and make examples.