one, I have brought her to you."
"And Heaven reward you for the thought!" said the sergeant; "the child is dearly welcome."

He had offered his hand to Mathieu; but the latter did not take it.
"Think well what it is I am asking you," said he; "perhaps the child may be bringing here disease and desolation upon you!"
"I hope there will be nothing of the kind," returned Dorot; "but God's will be done!"
"Bear in mind also," continued the quarter-master, insisting, "that if the thing gets wind, you run a risk of punishment for having violated the quarantine."
"Then the will of man be done!" was the sergeant's simple observation.
"But still think."
"Of nothing further, Ropars," interrupted the sergeant; "there! enough said--too much. No words about the matter; you have brought me the little one; I accept her."

He had stooped down to Francine, whom he then took up in his arms, and with her remounted to the small chamber formerly occupied by Geneviève. He, himself, stripped off from the child her dripping clothes, and put her to sleep in an old cot of Michael's.

The father, who had followed them, remained at the door with his arms hanging down at his side, the very picture of gratitude deeply felt, but unable to vent itself in words. Only, when Dorot turned round towards him, he seized one of his hands and held it silently grasped. Dorot, who desired to avoid a scene, began at once to talk of the means of concealing the little girl's change of abode. It was sufficient that her absence from Trébéron would not be remarked; as for her being at the Ile des Morts, it could not give rise to any suspicion, since the guard of artillery that did duty at the magazine, and that might have been surprised at this increase in the keeper's family, was to be changed on the following day. Ropars arranged certain signals for transmitting mutually the news between the neighbour islands. These were to be renewed several times a day, and thus relieve them at least from the anguish of uncertainty. At length, when all had been agreed upon, Mathieu drew near the window and looked out. The breeze had freshened, the sky appeared less starry, and a transparent vapour was beginning to creep over the sea.
"It is time to start," said he, returning towards the sergeant; "may God pay you for what you do, Dorot! As for Geneviève and myself, we shall remain your debtors to all eternity."
"We'll talk of that, by and by," replied the keeper; "just now, the main thing, and that which troubles me, is the passage over."
"Don't be uneasy about that," answered Ropars; "now that the child is in safety, I shall cross the channel just as easily as one goes to 

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