The officer whom he called upon was an old captain, an excellent man, who had practised the appearance of a grim, stern official so long, that he had finally become in reality what he only wished to appear.

Seeing Daniel enter his office, he thought he came to inform him of his promotion, and made a great effort to smile as he hailed him with the words,—­

“Well, Lieut.  Champcey, we are satisfied, I hope?”

And, perceiving that Daniel did not wear the epaulets of his new rank, he added,—­

“But how is that, lieutenant?  Perhaps you have not heard yet?”

“I beg your pardon, captain.”

“Why on earth, then, have you no epaulets?”

And he began to frown terribly, considering that such carelessness augured ill for the service.  Daniel excused himself as well as he could, which was very little, and then boldly approached the purpose of his call.

“I have received an order for active service.”

“I know,—­on board ‘The Conquest,’ in the roadstead at Rochefort, for Cochin China.”

“I have to be at my post in four days.”

“And you think the time too short?  It is short.  But impossible to grant you ten minutes more.”

“I do not ask for leave of absence, captain; I want the favor—­to be allowed to keep my place here.”

The old officer could hardly keep his seat.

“You would prefer not going on board ship,” he exclaimed, “the very day after your promotion?  Ah, come, you are mad!”

Daniel shook his head sadly.

“Believe me, captain,” he replied, “I obey the most imperative duty.”

Leaning back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, the captain seemed to look for such a duty; then he asked suddenly,—­

“Is it your family that keeps you?”

“If my place can really not be filled by one of my comrades, I shall be compelled to send in my resignation.”

The old sailor bounded as he heard that word, and said furiously,—­

“I told you you were a fool!”

In spite of his determination, Daniel was too much troubled not to commit a blunder.  He insisted,—­

“It is a matter of life and death with me, captain.  And if you only knew my reasons; if I could tell them”—­

“Reasons which cannot be told are always bad reasons, sir.  I insist upon what I have told you.”

“Then, captain, I shall be compelled, to my infinite sorrow, to insist upon offering my resignation.”

The old sailor’s brow became darker and darker.  He growled.

“Your resignation, your resignation!  You talk of it very lightly.  It remains to be seen whether it will be accepted.  ‘The Conquest’ does not sail on a pleasure-party; she is sent out on a serious campaign, and will probably be absent for some time.  We have unpleasant complications down there and are sending out reinforcements.  You are still in France; but you are actually under orders to meet the enemy; Men do not resign in the face of the enemy, Lieut.  Champcey!”