“The captain, whom this conversation began to weary, answered dryly: 

“’He is some old French tramp whom I found last year in America, and I brought him back.  It seems that he has some relatives in Havre, but that he doesn’t wish to return to them because he owes them money.  His name is Jules—­Jules Darmanche or Darvanche or something like that.  It seems that he was once rich over there, but you can see what’s left of him now.’

“My father turned ashy pale and muttered, his throat contracted, his eyes haggard.

“’Ah! ah! very well, very well.  I’m not in the least surprised.  Thank you very much, captain.’

“He went away, and the astonished sailor watched him disappear.  He returned to my mother so upset that she said to him: 

“‘Sit down; some one will notice that something is the matter.’

“He sank down on a bench and stammered: 

“‘It’s he!  It’s he!’

“Then he asked: 

“‘What are we going to do?’

“She answered quickly: 

“’We must get the children out of the way.  Since Joseph knows everything, he can go and get them.  We must take good care that our son-in-law doesn’t find out.’

“My father seemed absolutely bewildered.  He murmured: 

“‘What a catastrophe!’

“Suddenly growing furious, my mother exclaimed: 

“’I always thought that that thief never would do anything, and that he would drop down on us again!  As if one could expect anything from a Davranche!’

“My father passed his hand over his forehead, as he always did when his wife reproached him.  She added: 

“’Give Joseph some money so that he can pay for the oysters.  All that it needed to cap the climax would be to be recognized by that beggar.  That would be very pleasant!  Let’s get down to the other end of the boat, and take care that that man doesn’t come near us!’

“They gave me five francs and walked away.

“Astonished, my sisters were awaiting their father.  I said that mamma had felt a sudden attack of sea-sickness, and I asked the shell opener: 

“‘How much do we owe you, monsieur?’

“I felt like laughing:  he was my uncle!  He answered: 

“‘Two francs fifty.’

“I held out my five francs and he returned the change.  I looked at his hand; it was a poor, wrinkled, sailor’s hand, and I looked at his face, an unhappy old face.  I said to myself: 

“‘That is my uncle, the brother of my father, my uncle!’

“I gave him a ten-cent tip.  He thanked me: 

“‘God bless you, my young sir!’

“He spoke like a poor man receiving alms.  I couldn’t help thinking that he must have begged over there!  My sisters looked at me, surprised at my generosity.  When I returned the two francs to my father, my mother asked me in surprise: 

“‘Was there three francs’ worth?  That is impossible.’