 Section 1 of Studies in Love and in Terror. Studies in Love and in Terror by Marie Bellick Lowndes. Price of Admiralty, Part 1 Aumor, vieux capitaine, il est temps, levons l'encre. Ce pays nous ennuie, Aumor. Apparion Claire de Vissan, wife of Jacques de Vissan, mayor of Falaise, stood in the morning sunlight, graceful with a proud instinctive grace of poison gesture on a wind-blown path close to the edge of the cliff. At some little distance to her left rose the sloping, mansard roofs of the Pavillon de Vissan, the charming country house to which her husband had brought her, a seventeen-year-old bride, ten long years ago. She was now gazing eagerly out to sea, shielding her gray, heavy-lidded eyes with her right hand. From her left hand hung a steel chain, to which was attached a small key. A hot haze lay heavily over the great sweep of deep blue waters. It blotted out the low-gray line on the horizon, which, on the majority of each year's days, reminds the citizens of Falaise how near England is to France. Jacques de Vissan had rejoiced in the entente cordiale if only because it brought such a stream of tourists to the old seaport town of which he was now mayor, but his beautiful wife thought of the English as gallant foes rather than as friends. Was she not great-granddaughter to that admiral who at Trafalgar, when both his legs were shattered by chainshot, bad his men place him in a barrel of bran that he might go on commanding in the hour of defeat to the end? And yet, as Claire stood there, her eyes sweeping the sea for an as yet invisible craft, her heart seemed to beat rhythmically to the last verse of a noble English poem which the governess of her twin daughters had made them recite to her that very morning. How did it run? Allowed she murmured, Yet this inconstancy is such as you too shall adore. And then she stopped, her quivering lips refusing to form the two concluding lines. To clear de Vissan, that moving cry from a man's soul was not dulled by familiarity or hackneyed by common usage, and just now it found an intolerably faithful echo in her sad rebellious heart, intensifying the anguish born of a secret and very bitter renunciation. With an abrupt restless movement she turned and walked on till her way along the path was barred by a curious obstacle. This was a small red brick tower, built within a few feet of the edge of the cliff. It was an ugly blot on the beautiful stretch of down, all the uglier that the bricks and tiles had not yet had time to lose their hardness of line and color in the salt wind. On the cliff side, the small circular building, open to wind, sky and sea, formed the unnatural apex of a natural stairway which led steeply, almost vertically, down to a deep landlocked cove below. The irregular steps carved by nature out of the chalk had been strengthened, and a rough protection added by means of knotted ropes fixed on either side of the dangerous descent. In the days when the steps had started shear from a cleft in the cliff path, Jacques de Vissant had never used this way of reaching a spot which till last year had been his property and his favorite bathing place, and he had also, in those same quiet days which now seemed so long ago, forbidden his daughters to use that giddy way. But Claire was a fearless woman, and she had always preferred the dangerous ladder-like stairs which seemed, when gazed at from below, to hang twixed sky and sea. Now, however, she rarely availed herself of the right retained by her husband of using one of the two keys which unlocked the door set in the new brick tower. For the cove, only by courtesy could it be called a bay, had been chosen, owing to its peculiar position, naturally remote and yet close to a great maritime port, to be the quarters of the northern submarine flotilla. Jacques de Vissant, and it was perhaps the only time in their joint life that his wife had entirely understood and sympathized with any action of her husbands, had refused the compensation his government had offered him. More, in his cold silent way, he had shown himself a patriot in a sense comparatively few modern men have the courage to be, namely in that which affected both his personal comfort and his purse. After standing for a moment on the perilously small and narrow platform which made the floor of the tower, Claire grasped firmly a strand of the knotted rope, and began descending the long steps cut in the cliffside. She no longer gazed out to sea, instead she looked straight down into the pale green sun-flecked waters of the little bay, where seven out of the nine submarines which composed the flotilla were lying half submerged, as is their want in harbor. A landsman, coming suddenly upon the cliff-locked pool, might have thought that the centuries had rolled back, and that the strange sight before him was a school of Saurians lazily sunning themselves in the placid waters of a sea inlet where time had stood still. But no such vision came to Claire de Vissant. As she went down the cliffside, her lovely eyes rested on these sinister, man-created monsters with a feeling of sisterly, possessive affection. She had become so familiarly acquainted with each and all of them in the last few months. She knew with such a curious, intimate knowledge where they differed both from each other and also from other submarine craft, not only here in these familiar waters, but in the waters of France's great rival on the sea. It ever gave her a thrill of pride to remember that it was France which first led the way in this, the most dangerous, as also the most adventurous, new arm of naval warfare. And she rejoiced as fiercely, as exultantly as any of her sea-fighting forebears would have done, in the terrible potentialities of destruction which each of these strange, grotesque-looking craft bore in their narrow flanks. It was now the hour of the crew's midday meal. There were fewer men standing about than usual, and so, after she had stepped down on the sandy strip ashore and climbed the ladder leading to the old Napoleonic Hulk which served as workshop and dwelling place of the officers of the flotilla, Badam de Vissant for a few moments stood solitary and looked musingly down into the waters of the bay. Each submarine, its long fish-like shape lying prone in the almost still transparent water, differed not only in size but in make from its fellows, and no two conning-towers even were alike. Lying apart, as if sulking in a corner, was an example of the old Jimnut type of undersea boat. She went by the name of the carp, and she was very squat, small, and ugly, her telescopic conning-tower being of hard canvas. To Claire, the carp always recalled an old Breton woman she had known as a girl. That woman had given thirteen sons to France, and of the thirteen five had died while serving with the colors, three at sea, and two in Tonkin. And a grateful country had given her a pension of ten francs a week, two francs for each dead son. Like that Breton woman, the ugly, sturdy little carp had borne heroes in her womb, and like her two she had paid terrible toll of her sons to death. Occasionally, but very seldom now, the carp was taken out to sea, and the men, strange to say, liked being in her, for they regarded her as a lucky boat. She had never had what they called a serious accident. Sunk deeper in the water was the broad-backed abbey, significantly named La Petrolleuse, the heroine of four explosions, no favorite with either crews or commanders, and, cradled in a low dock on the farther strip of beach, was stretched the Triton, looking like a huge fish which had panted itself to death. The Triton was also not a lucky boat. She had been the theater of a terrible mishap, when for some inexplicable cause, the Conning Tower had failed to close. Claire was always glad to see her safe in dock. Out in the middle of the bay was La Gloriause, a submarine of the latest type. Had she not lain so low, little more than her flying bridge being above the water, she would have put her elder sisters to shame, so exquisitely shaped was she. Everything about La Gloriause was made delicately true to scale, and she could carry a crew of over twenty men, but somehow Claire de Vissant did not care for this miniature leviathan as she did for the older kind of submarine, and, with more reason for his prejudice, the officer in charge of the flotilla shared her feeling. Commander Dupré thought La Gloriause difficult to handle under water, but he had had the same opinion of the Neptune, one of the two submarines which were out this fine August morning. The nigger, bonjour madame, suddenly sounded in Claire de Vissant's ear, and she turned quickly to find one of the younger officers at her elbow. The Neptune is a few minutes late, he said, smiling. I hope your sister has enjoyed her cruise. He was looking with admiring and grateful eyes at the young wife of the mayor of Falaise, for Claire de Vissant and her widowed sister, Madeleine Baudoin, were very kind and hospitable to the officers of the submarine flotilla. The life of both officers and men who volunteer for this branch of the service is grim and arduous, and if this is generally true of them all, it was specially so of those who served under Commander Dupré. By a tacit agreement with their chief, they took no part in the summer gayities of the watering place which has grown up around the old port of Falaise, and out of duty hours they would have led dull lives indeed had not been for the hospitality shown them by the owners of the Pavillon de Vissant, and for the welcome which awaited them in the freer, gayer atmosphere of Madame Baudoin's villa, the Chalet des Dunes. Madeleine Baudoin was a lively, cheerful woman, younger in nature, if not in years, than her beautiful sister, and so she was naturally more popular with the younger officers. They had felt especially flattered when Madame Baudoin had allowed herself to be persuaded to go out for a couple of hours in the Neptune, till this morning neither of the sisters had ever ventured out to sea in a submarine. And now it was true that the Neptune had been out longer than her commander had said she would be, but no touch of fear brushed Claire de Vissant. She would have trusted what she held most precious in the world, her children, to Commander Dupré's care, and a few moments after her companion had spoken she suddenly saw the little tricolor for which her keen eyes had for long swept the sea, bravely riding the waves and making straight for the bay. The flag moving swiftly over the surface of the blue water was a curious, almost an uncanny sight. One which never failed to fill Claire with a kind of spiritual exaltation. For the tiny strip of waving color was a symbol of the gallantry, of the carelessness of danger, lying under the dancing sun-flecked ripples which alone proved that the tricolor was not some illusion of sorcery. And then, as if the submarine had been indeed a sentient living thing, the Neptune lifted her great shield-like back up out of the sea and glided through the narrow neck of the bay, and so close under the long deck on which Madame de Vissant and her companion were standing. The eager busy hum of work slackened. Discipline is not perhaps quite so taught in the French as it is in the British Navy. For both men and officers were one and all eager to see the lady who had ventured out in the Neptune with their commander. Only those actually on board had seen Madame Baudouin embark. There was a long rough jetty close to her house, the lonely Chalet des Dines, and it was from there that the submarine had picked up her honored passenger. But when Commander Dupré's stern, sunburned face suddenly appeared above the conning tower, the men vanished as if by enchantment, while the eager busy hum began again, much as if a lever, setting this human machinery in motion, had been touched by some titanic finger. The officers naturally held their ground. There was a look of strain in the commander's blue eyes, and his mouth was set in hard lines. A thoughtful onlooker would have suspected that the exciting, dangerous life he led was trying his nerves. His men knew better. Still, though they had no clue to the cause which had changed him, they all knew he had changed greatly of late. To them individually he had become kinder, more human, and that heightened their regret that he was now quitting the northern flotilla. Commander Dupré had asked to be transferred to the Toulon submarine station. Some experiments were being made there which he was anxious to watch. He was leaving Falaise on the morrow. Clear to Vissan reddened and a gleam leapt into her eyes as she met the naval officer's grave measured glance. But very soon he looked away from her. For now he was bending down, putting out a hand to help his late passenger to step from the conning tower. Smiling, breathless, a little disheveled, her gray linen skirt crumpled, Madame Baudouin looked round her, dazed for the moment by the bright sunlight. Then she called out gaily, Well, Clare, here I am. Alive and very, very hot. And as she jumped off the slippery flank of the Neptune, she gave herself and her crumpled gown a little shake and made a slight playful grimace. The bright young faces round her broke into broad grins. Those officers who volunteer for the submarine services of the world are chosen young, and they are merry boys. You may well laugh, Monsieur. She threw them all a lively, challenging glance. When I tell you that today, for the first time in my life, I acknowledge masculine supremacy. I think that you will admit that we women are not afraid of pain, but the discomfort, the stuffiness? Ah, no! I could not have borne much longer the horrible discomfort and stuffiness of that dreadful little Neptune of yours. Protesting voices rose on every side. The Neptune was not uncomfortable. The Neptune was not stuffy. And I understand, again she made a little grimace, that it is quite an exceptional thing for the crew to be consoled, as I was today, by an ice-pale. A most exceptional thing, said the youngest lieutenant with a sigh. His name was Parito, and he also had been out with the Neptune that morning. In fact, it only happens in that week which sees four Thursdays, or when we have a lady on board, Madame. What a pity it is, said another, that the old woman who left a legacy to the inventor who devises a submarine life-saving apparatus didn't leave us instead a cream ice allowance. It would have been a far more practical thing to do. Madame Baudouin turned quickly to Commander Dupré, who now stood silent, smile-less, at her sister's side. Surely you're going to try for this extraordinary prize, she cried. I'm sure that you could easily devise something which would gain the old lady's legacy. I'm a dame! he answered with a start, almost as if he were wrenching himself free from some deep abstraction. I should not think of trying to do such a thing. It would be a mere waste of time. Besides, there is no real risk. No risk that we are not prepared to run. He looked proudly round at the eager, laughing faces of the youngsters who were, till tomorrow night, still under his orders. The old lady meant very well, he went on, and for the first time since he had stepped out of the conning tower, Commander Dupré smiled. And I hope with all my heart that some poor devil will get her money. But I think I may promise you that it will not be an officer in the submarine service. We are too busy. We have too many really important things to do, to worry ourselves about life-saving appliances. Why the first thing we should do if pressed for room would be to throw our life-helmets overboard? Has one of the life-helmets ever saved a life? It was Claire who asked this question in her low, vibrating voice. Commander Dupré turned to her and he flushed under his sunburn. It was the first time she had spoken to him that day. Now, never, he answered shortly. And then after a pause he added, The conditions in which these life-helmets could be utilized only occur in one accident in a thousand. Still they would have saved our comrades in the Lutin, objected Lieutenant Parrito. The Lutin, there was a moment's silence. The evocation of that tricksy sprite, the aerial of French mythology, whose name, by an ironical chance, had been borne by the most ill-fated of all submarine craft, seemed to bring the shadow of death a thwart them all. Madeleine Baudouin felt a sudden tremor of retrospective fear. She was glad she had not remembered the Lutin when she was sitting, eating ices and exchanging frivolous, chaffing talk with Lieutenant Parrito in that chamber of little ease, the drum-like interior of the Neptune, where not even she, a small woman, could stand upright. Well, well, we must not keep you from your déjeuner, she cried, shaking off the queer disturbing sensation. I have to thank you for, shall I say, a very interesting experience. I am too honest to say an agreeable one. She shook hands with Commander Dupré and Lieutenant Parrito, the officers who had accompanied her on what had been, now that she looked back on it, perhaps a more perilous adventure than she had realized. You're coming with me, Claire? She looked at her sister. It was a tender, anxious, loving look. Madeleine Baudouin had been the eldest, and Claire de Vissan the youngest, of a Breton admiral's family of three daughters and four sons. They, too, were devoted to one another. Claire shook her head. I came to tell you that I can't lunch with you today, she said slowly. I promised I would be back by half past twelve. Then we shall not meet till to-morrow? Claire repeated mechanically. No. Not till to-morrow, dear Madeleine. May I row you home, madame? Lieutenant Parrito asked Madeleine eagerly. Certainly, mon ami! And so, a very few minutes later, Claire de Vissan and Commander Dupré were left alone together, alone that is, saved for fifty inquisitive, if kindly, pairs of eyes which saw them from every part of the bay. At last she held at her hand. Good-bye, then, till to-morrow? She said. Her voice so low is to be almost inaudible. No! Not good-bye yet! he cried imperiously. You must let me take you up the cliff today. It may be, I suppose it is, the last time I shall be able to do so. Hardly waiting for her murmured word of assent, he led the way up the steep, ladder-like stairway cut in the cliffside. Halfway up there were some very long steps, and it was from above that help could best be given. He longed with a fierce, aching longing that she would allow him to take her two hands in his and draw her up those high, precipitous steps. But if late Claire had avoided accepting from him her friend this simple trifling act of courtesy, and now twice he turned and held out a hand, and twice she pretended not to see it. At last, within ten feet of the top of the cliff, they came to the steepest, rudest step of all, a place some might have thought very dangerous. Commander Dupré bent down and looked into Claire's uplifted face. Let me at least help you up here, he said hoarsely. She shook her head obstinately, but suddenly he felt her tremulous lips touch his lean, sinewy hand, and her hot tears fall upon his fingers. He gave a strangled cry of pain and of pride, of agony and of rapture, and for a long moment he battled with an awful temptation. How easy it would be to gather her into his arms, and with her face hidden on his breast, take a great leap backwards into nothingness. But he conquered the persuasive devil who had been raised. Women do not know how easy it is to rouse this devil, by Claire's moment of piteous self-revelation. And at last they stood together on the narrow platform where she, less than an hour ago, had stood alone. Sheltered by the friendly, ugly red walls of the little tower, they were as remote from their kind as if on a rock in the midst of the sea. More, she was in his power in a sense she had never been before, for she had herself broken down the fragile barrier with which she had hitherto known how to keep him at bay. But he felt rather than saw that it was herself she would despise, if now at the eleventh hour he took advantage of that tremulous kiss of renunciation, of those hot tears of anguished parting. And so, at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning, he said, and he felt as if it was some other man, not he himself, who was saying the words. He took her hand in farewell, so much he could allow himself, and all unknowingly crushed her fingers in his strong convulsive grasp. Yes, she said, at eleven tomorrow morning Madeleine and I will be waiting out on the end of the jetty. He thought he detected a certain hesitancy in her voice. Are you sure you still wish to come? he said gravely. I would not wish you to do anything that would cause you any fear, or any discomfort. Your sister evidently found it a very trying experience today. Claire smiled. Her hand no longer hurt her, her fingers had become quite numb. Afraid, she said, and there was a little scorn in her voice, and then, ah me, I only wish that there were far more risk than there is about that which we are going to do together tomorrow. She was in a dangerous mood, poor soul, the mood that raises a devil in men. But perhaps her good angel came to help her for suddenly, forgive me, she said humbly. You know I did not mean that. Only cowards wish for death. And then, looking at him, she averted her eyes, for they showed her that if that were so, dupré was indeed a craven. Au revoir, she whispered, au revoir till tomorrow morning. When halfway through the door, leading on to the lonely stretch of down, she turned round suddenly. I did not want you to bring any ices for me tomorrow. I never thought of doing so, he said simply, and the words pleased Claire as much as anything just then could pleasure her, for they proved that her friend did not class her in his mind with those women who feared his comfort more than danger. It had been her own wish to go out with Commander dupré for his last cruise in northern waters. She had not had the courage to deny herself this final glimpse of him. They were never to meet again after tomorrow, in his daily habit as he lived. End of Section 1 It was a strange and beautiful room likely to linger in the memory of those who knew it strange and beautiful mistress. The walls were draped with old Persian shulls. The furniture was of red Chinese lacquer, a set acquired in the east by some Norman sailingman unnumbered years ago, and bought by Claire de Wisson out of her own slender income not long after her marriage. Pale blue and faded yellow silk cushions softened the formal angularity of the wide cane-seated couch and low square chairs. There was a deep crystal bowl of mid-summer flowering roses on the table laden with books by which Claire often sat long hours reading poetry and volumes, written by modern poets and authors of whom her husband had only vaguely heard and of whom he definitely disapproved. The window was wide open and there floated in from the garden which sloped away to the edge and indeed over the crumbling cliff. Fragrant, salt-laden odours, dominated by the clean, sharp scent thrown from huge shrubs of red and white geraniums. The balls of blossom set against the belt of blue sea formed a band of waving tricolor. But Jacques de Wisson was unconscious, uncaring of the beauty round him, either in the room or without, and when at last he walked forward to the window his face hardened as his eyes instinctively sought out the spot where, if hidden from his sight, he knew there lay the deep transparent waters of the little bay which had been selected as providing ideal quarters for the submarine flotilla. He had eagerly assented to the sacrifice of his land and what meant far more to him of his privacy, but now he would have given much and he was a careful man to have had the submarine station swept away transferred to the other side of filets. Down there, out of the side of the pavilion, and yet but a few minutes away if one used the dangerous cliff stairway, dwelt Jacques de Wisson's secret foe, for the man of whom he was acutely, miserably jealous, was commander de Prix, of whose coming departure he has yet knew nothing. The owner of the pavilion de Wisson seldom entered the room where he now stood impatiently waiting for his wife, and he never did so without looking round him with this taste and remembering with an odd wistful feeling what it had been like in his mother's time. Then Le Boudoir de Madame had reflected the tastes and simple interests of an old-fashioned provincial lady born in the year that Louis Philippe came to the throne. Greatly did the man now standing there prefer the room as it had been to what it was now. The heavy, ugly furniture which had been there in the days of his lonely youth, for he had been an only child, was now in the schoolroom where the twin daughters of the house, Claret and Jacqueline, did their lessons with misdoughty their English governess. Claret and Jacqueline, Jacques de Wisson's lantern-jawed expressionless face quickened into feelings he thought of his two little girls. They were the pride as well as the only vivid pleasure of his life. All that he dispassionately admired in his wife was, so he sometimes told himself with satisfaction, repeated in his daughters. Claret and Jacqueline had inherited their mother's look of race, her fastidiousness and refinement of bearing, while fortunately lacking Claret's dangerous personal beauty, her touch of eccentricity, and her discontent with life, or rather, with the life which Jacques de Wisson, in spite of a gnawing ache and longing that nothing could still or assuage, yet found good. The mayor of Filets looked strangely out of keeping with his present surroundings, at least so he would have seemed to the eye of any foreigner, especially of any Englishman who had seen him standing there. He was a narrowly built man, forty-three years of age, and his clean shaven, rather fleshy face, was very pale. On this hot August morning he was dressed in a light grey frock coat, under which he wore a yellow waistcoat, and on his wife's writing-table lay his tall hat and lemon-coloured gloves. As mayor of his native town, a position he owed to an historic name and to his wealth, and not to his very moderate Republican opinions, his duties included the celebration of civil marriages. And today, it being the 14th of August, the eve of the Assumption and still a French national fete, there were to be a great many weddings celebrated in the Hotel de Vie. Jacques de Wisson considered that he owed it to himself, as well as to his fellow citizens, to appear correctly attired on such occasions. He had a deep, wordless contempt for those of his acquaintances who dressed on ceremonial occasions, along glaise, that is, in loose lounge suits and straw hats. Suddenly there broke on his ear the sound of a low, full voice singing. It came from the next room, his wife's bedroom, and the mournful, passionate words of an old sea-ballad rang out, full of a desolate pain and sense of bitter loss. The sound irritated him shrewdly, and there came back to him a fragment of conversation he had not thought of for ten years. During a discussion held between his father and mother in this very room about their adored only son's proposed marriage, with Claire de Kergouet, whose father had said, There is one thing I do not much care for. She is, they say, very musical, and Jacques, even as a baby, howled like a dog whenever he heard singing. And his mother had laughed, Mon ami, you cannot expect to get perfect soon, even for Jacques. And Claire, so he now admitted unwillingly to himself, had never troubled him over much with her love of music. He knocked twice sharply on his wife's door. The song broke short with an almost cruel suddenness, and yet there followed a perceptible pause before he heard her say, Comine? And then, as Jacques de Wissant slowly turned the handle of the door, he saw his wife Claire before she saw him. He had a vision, that is, of her as she appeared when she believed herself to be alone, if not alone, then in sight of eyes that were indifferent, unwatchful. But Jacques's eyes, which his wife's widowed sister, the frivolous Parisian, Madeleine Bedouin, had once unkindly compared to Fisch's eyes, were now filled with a watchful, suspicious light which gave a tragic mask to his pallid, plain-featured face. Claire de Wissant was standing before a long, narrow mirror placed at right angles to a window looking straight out to sea. Her short, narrow, dark blue skirt and long blue silk jersey silhouetted her slender figure, the figure which remained so supple, so—so girlish in spite of her nine-year-old daughters. There was something shy and wild, untamed and yet beckoning, in the oval face now drawn with pain and sleeplessness, in the gray, almond-shaped eyes reddened with secret tears and in the firm, delicately modelled mouth. She was engaged in tucking up her dark, curling hair under a gray yachting cap, and for a few moments she neither spoke nor looked round to see who was standing framed in the door. But when at last she turned away from the mirror and saw her husband, the colour rushing into her pale face caused an unbecoming flush to cover it. I thought it was one of the children, she said a little breathlessly, and then she waited, assuming, or so Jacques thought, an air at once of patience and of surprise which sharply angered him. Then her look of strain, nay of positive illness, gave him an uneasy twinge of discomfort. Could it be anxiety concerning her second sister, Marie Anne, who married to an Italian officer was now ill of scarlet fever at Mantua? Two days ago Claire had begged very earnestly to be allowed to go and nurse Marie Anne, but he Jacques had refused, not on kindly but quite firmly. Claire's duty of course lay at filets with her husband and children, not at Mantua with her sister. Suddenly she again broke silence. Well, she said, is there anything you wish to tell me? They had never used the familiar thee and thou, the one to the other, for at the time of their marriage an absurd whim of fashion had ordained on the part of French wives and husbands a return to eighteenth-century formality, and Claire had chosen in that one instance to follow fashion. She added, seeing that he still did not speak, I am lunching with my sister to-day, but I shall be home by three o'clock. She spoke with the chill civility a lady shows a stranger. Claire seldom allowed herself to be on the defensive when speaking to her husband. Jacques de Wissant frowned. He did not like either of his wife's sisters, neither the one who was now lying ill in Italy, nor his widowed sister-in-law, Madeline Bedouin. In the villa which he had hired for the summer, and which stood on a lonely stretch of beach beyond the bay, Madeline often entertained the officers of the submarine flotilla, and this from her brother-in-law's point of view was very far from correct conduct on the part of one who could still pass as a young widow. In response to his frown, there had come a slight marking smile on Claire's face. I suppose you are on your way to some important town-function. She disliked the town of Flays. The townfolk bored her, and she hated the vast old family-house in the marketplace where she had to spend each winter. Today is the fourteenth of August, observed Jacques de Wissant in his deliberate voice, and I have a great many marriages to celebrate this morning. Yes, I suppose that is so. And again Claire de Wissant spoke with a courteous indifference, the lack of interest in her husband's concerns, which she had early schooled him to endure. But all at once there came a change in her voice, in her manner. Why today? The fourteenth of August is our wedding-day. How stupid of me to forget! We must tell Jacqueline and Claire it. It will amuse them. She uttered the words a little breathlessly, and as she spoke Jacques de Wissant walked quickly forward into the room. As he did so, his wife moved abruptly away from where she had been standing. Thus maintaining the distance between them. But Claire de Wissant need not have been afraid. Her husband had his own strict code of manners, and to this code he ever remained faithful. He possessed a remarkable mastery of his emotions, and he had always showed with regard to herself so singular a power of self-restraint that Claire, not unreasonably, doubted if he had any emotions to master, any passionate feeling to restrain. All he now did was to take a chagrin case out of his breast pocket and hold it out towards her. Claire, he said quietly, I have brought you, in memory of our wedding-day, a little gift which I hope you would like. It is a medallion of the children, and as she at last advanced towards him he pressed a spring and revealed a dull gold medal, on which moulded in high relief and superimposed the one on the other, were Clarettes and Jacqueline's childish, delicately pure profiles. A softer, kindlier light came into Claire de Wissant's sad grey eyes. She held out a hesitating hand and Jacques de Wissant, before placing his gift in it, took that soft hand in his and, bending rather awkwardly, kissed it lightly. In France, even now, a man will often kiss a woman's hand by way of conventional, respectful homage, but to Claire the touch of her husband's lips was hateful, so hateful indeed that she had to make an instant effort to hide the feeling of physical repulsion with which that touch had suddenly engulfed her in certain dark recesses of memory and revolt. It is a charming medallion, she said hurriedly. Quite a work of art, Jacques, and I thank you for having thought of it. It gives me great, very great pleasure. And then something happened which was to her so utterly unexpected that she gave a stifled cry of pain, almost it seemed of fear. As she forced herself to look straight into her husband's face, the anguish in her own sore heart unlocked the key to his, and she perceived with the eyes of the soul to see when they are not holding so much that is concealed from the eyes of the body, the suffering, the dumb longing she had never allowed herself to know were there. For the first time since her marriage, since that wedding-day of which this was the tenth anniversary, Claire felt pity for Jacques as well as for herself. For the first time her rebellious heart acknowledged that her husband also was enmeshed in a web of tragic circumstance. Jacques, she cried, oh Jacques, and as she so uttered his name twice there came a look of acute distress and then of sudden resolution on her face. I wish you to know, she exclaimed, that if I were a wicked woman I should perhaps beat you a better wife. Thanks to the language in which she spoke there was a play on the word, that word which in French signifies woman as well as wife. He stared at her and uttered no word of answer, of understanding in response to her strange speech. At one time not lately, but many years ago, Claire had sometimes tried his patience by the odd unreasonable thing she said and once, stung beyond bearing, he had told her so. Remembering those cold measured words of rebuke she now caught with quick, exultant relief at the idea that Jacques had not understood the half-confession rung from her by her sudden vision of his pain and she swung back to a belief she had always held till just now the belief that he was dull, dull and unperceptive. With a nervous smile she turned again to her mirror and then Jacques de Wissant, with his wife's enigmatic words ringing in his ears, abruptly left the room. As if pursued by some baneful presence he hastened through Claire's beautiful boudoir across the dining-room hung with a goblin's tapestries which his wife had brought him as part of her slender dour and so into the oval hall which formed at the centre of the house. And there Jacques de Wissant waited for a while trying to still and to coordinate his troubled thoughts and impressions. Ah yes, he had understood. Understood only too well Claire's strange ambiguous utterance. There are subtle, unbreathed temptations which all men and all women when tortured by jealousy not only understand but divine before they are actually in being. Jacques de Wissant now believed that he was justified of the suspicions of which he had been ashamed. His wife, moved by some obscure desire for self-revelation to which he had had no clue, had flung at him the truth. Yes, without doubt Claire could have made him happy. So little would have contented his hunger for her had she been one of those light women of whom he sometimes heard who go from their husband's kisses to those of their lovers. But if he sometimes, nay, often heard of them, Jacques de Wissant knew nothing of such women. The men of his race had known how to acquire honest wives, eye and keep them so. There had never been in the de Wissant family any of those ugly scandals which stain other clans and which are remembered over generations in French provincial towns. Those scandals which, if they provoke a laugh and cruel sneer when discussed by the indifferent, are recalled with long faces and anxious whisperings when a young girl's future is being discussed and which make the honourable marriage of daughters difficult of achievement. Jacques de Wissant thanked the god of his fathers that Claire had nothing in common with such women as those. He thought he did not need her assurance to know that his honour, in the usual narrow sense of the phrase, was safe in her hands. Still her strange, imprudent words of half a vowel wracked him with jealous and, yes, suspicious pain. Fortunately for him he was a man burdened with much business, and so at last he looked at his watch. Why, it was getting late, terribly late, and he prided himself on his punctuality. Still, if he started now at once he would be at the Hotel de Vie a few minutes before ten o'clock, the time when the first of the civil marriages he had to celebrate that morning was time to take place. Without passing through the house he made his way rapidly round by the gardens to the road, winding ribbon-wise behind the cliffs where his faton was waiting for him. For Jacques de Wissant had as yet resisted the wish of his wife and the advice of those of his friends who considered that he ought to purchase an automobile. Driving had been from boyhood one of his few pleasures and accomplishments, but as he drove, keeping his fine black baes well in hand, the five miles into town, and tried to fix his mind on a commercial problem of great importance with which he would be expected that day. Jacques de Wissant found it impossible to think of any matter but that which for the moment filled his heart to the exclusion of all else. That matter concerned his own relations to his wife and his wife's relations to Commander du Prix. This gentleman of France was typical in more than one sense of his nation and of his class, quite unlike, that is, to the fancy picture which foreigners draw of the average Frenchman, reserved and cold in manner, proud with an intense but never openly expressed pride in his name and of what the bearers of it had achieved for their country, obstinate and narrow as are apt to be all human beings whose judgment is never questioned by those about them. Jacques de Wissant's fetish was his personal honour and the honour of his name, of the name of Wissant. In his distress and disturbance of mind for his wife's half-confession had outraged his sense of what was decorous and fitting, his memory travelled over the map of his past life, I and even beyond the boundaries of his own life. Before him lay spread retrospectively the story of his parents on eventful happy marriage. They had been mated in the good old French way, that is, up to their wedding morning, they had never met save in the presence of their respective parents. And yet, and yet how devoted they had been to each other. So completely one in thought, in interest, in sympathy had they grown that when after thirty-three years of married life his father had died, Jacques's mother had not known how to go on living. She had slipped out of life a few months later, and as she lay dying she had used a very curious expression. My faithful companion is calling me, she had said to her only child, and you must not try dear son, to make me linger on the way. Now to-day Jacques de Wissant asked himself with perplexed pain and anger why it was that his parents had led so peaceful, so dignified, so wholly contented a married life while he himself. And yet his own marriage had been a love-match or so those about him had all said with nods and smiles. Love marriages having suddenly become the fashion in the rich provincial world of which he had then been one of the heirs apparent. His old-fashioned mother would have preferred as daughter-in-law any one of half a dozen girls who belonged to her own good town of Fillets and whom she had known from childhood. But Jacques had been difficult to please, and he was already thirty-two when he had met by a mere chance Claire de Kergouet at her first ball. She was only seventeen, with but the promise of a beauty which was now an exquisite flower. And he had decided there and then, in the course of two hours, that this demoiselle de Kergouet was alone worthy of becoming Madame Jacques de Wissant. And on the whole his prudent parents had blessed his choice, for the girl was of the best Breton stock and came of a family famed in the naval annals of France. And luckily Claire de Kergouet had had no dowry to speak of for her father, the admiral, had been a spend-thrift and as is still the reckless Breton fashion father of a large family, three daughters and four sons. But Jacques de Wissant had not allowed his parents to give the matter of Claire's fortune more than a regretful thought. Indeed he had done further, he had recognized a larger dowry than she had brought him to save the pride of her family. But Claire he could not help thinking of it today with a sense of bitter injury, had never seemed grateful, had never seemed to understand all that had been done for her. Had he not poured splendid gifts upon her in the beginning of their married life, had it been far more difficult, had he not, within reason, contented all her strange whims and fantasies, but not had availed him to secure even a semblance of that steadfast, warm affection, that sincere interest and pride in his concerns, which is all such a Frenchman as was Jacques de Wissant expects, or indeed desires, of his wedded wife. Had Claire been such a woman, Jacques's own passion for her would soon have dulled into a reasonable, comfortable affection. But his wife's cool aloofness had kept alive the hidden fires, the more, so ironic are the tricks which sly dame nature plays, that for many years past he had troubled her but very little with his company. Outwardly Claire de Wissant did her duty, entertaining his friends and relations on such occasions as was incumbent on her, and showing herself a devoted and careful mother to the twin daughters who formed the only vital link between her husband and herself. But inwardly, inwardly they too were strangers. And yet only during the last few months had Jacques de Wissant ever felt jealous of his wife. There had been times when he had been angered by the way in which her young beauty, her indefinable mysterious charm, had attracted the very few men with whom she was brought into contact. But Claire, so her husband had always acknowledged to himself, was no flirt. She was ever perfectly correct. Correct was a word dear to Jacques de Wissant. It was one which he used as a synonym for great things, things such as honour, fineness of conduct, loyalty. But fate had suddenly introduced a stranger into the dull, decorous life of the pavillon de Wissant, and it was he Jacques himself who had brought him there. How bitter it was to look back and remember how much he had liked, liked because he had respected Commander du Prix. He now hated and feared the naval officer, and he would have given much to have been able to despise him. But that Jacques de Wissant could not do. Commander du Prix was still all that he had taken him to be when he first made him free of his house. A brilliant officer, devoted to his profession, already noted in the service as having made several important improvements in submarine craft. From the first it had seemed peculiar to Jacques de Wissant's mind on natural that such a man as was du Prix should be so keenly interested in music and in modern literature. But so it was, and it had been owing to these strange untoward tastes that Commander du Prix and Claire had become friends. He now reminded himself for the hundredth time that he had begun by actually approving of the acquaintance between his wife and the naval officer, an acquaintance which he had naturally supposed would be of the most correct nature. Then without warning there came an hour, nay a moment, when in that twilight hour which the French call Twix Dog and Wolf, the most torturing and shameful of human passion's jealousy, had taken possession of Jacques de Wissant, disintegrating rather than shattering the elaborate fabric of his house of life, that house in which he had always dwelt so snugly and unquestioningly ensconced. He had come home after a long afternoon spent at the Hôtel du Vie to learn with tepid pleasure that there was a visitor, Commander du Prix, in the house. And as he had come hurrying towards his wife's boudoir, Jacques had heard Claire's low deep voice and the other's ardent, eager tones mingled together, and then as he, the husband, had opened the door they had stopped speaking, their words clipped as if a sword had fallen between them. At the same moment a servant had brought a lamp into the twilight room and Jacques had seen the ravaged face of Commander du Prix, a fair, tanned face full of revolt and of longing leashed. Claire had remained in shadow, but her eyes or so the interloper thought he perceived were full of tears. Since that spring evening the mayor of Filets had not had an easy moment. While squirting to act the spy upon his wife, he was forever watching her and keeping an eager and yet scarcely conscious of the amount of her movements. True, Commander du Prix had soon ceased to trouble the owner of the Pavilion de Wissant by his presence. The younger officers came and went, but since that hour laden with unspoken drama, their commander only came when good breeding required him to pay a formal call on his nearest neighbour and some time host. But Claire saw du Prix constantly at the chalet des dons, her sister's house, and she was both too proud and too indifferent it appeared to her husband's view of what a young married woman's conduct should be to conceal the fact. This openness on his wife's part was at once Jacques' consolation and opportunity for endless self-torture. For three long miserable months he had wrestled with those ignoble questions only the jealous know, now accepting as probable now rejecting with angry self-rebuke the thought that his wife suffered, perhaps even returned, du Prix's love. And today instead of finding his jealousy allayed by her self-confidence he felt more wretched than he had ever been. His horses responded to his mood and going down the steep hill which leads into the town of Filets they shied violently at a heap of stones they had passed sedately a dozen times or more. Jacques de Wissant struck them several cruel blows with the whip he scarcely ever used and the groom looking furtively at his master's set face and blazing eyes felt suddenly afraid. CHAPTER III It was one o'clock and the last of the wedding parties had swept gaily out of the great sal of the Filets's town hall and so did the cathedral across the marketplace. Jacques de Wissant with a feeling of relief took off his tricolor badge of office. With the instinctive love of order which was characteristic of the man he gathered up the papers that were spread on the large table and placed them in neat piles before him. Through the high windows which by his order had been prized open for it was intensely hot he could hear what seemed an unwanted stir outside. The picturesque town was full of strangers. In addition to the usual holiday-makers from the neighborhood crowds of Parisians had come down to spend the feast of the assumption by the sea. The mayor of Filets liked to hear this unwanted stir and movement for everything that affected the prosperity of the town affected him very nearly but he was constitutionally averse to noise and just now he felt very tired. The varied emotions which had wracked him that morning had drained him of his vitality and he thought with relief that in a few moments he would be in the old-fashioned restaurant just across the marketplace where a table was always reserved for him when his townhouse happened to be shut up and where all his tastes and dietetic fads from Misére-de-Wisson had a delicate digestion were known. He took up his tall hat and his lemon-colored gloves and then a look of annoyance came over his weary face for he heard the swinging of a door. Evidently his clerk was coming back to ask some stupid question. He always the town hall at the exact moment he wished to do so for although the officials dreaded his cold reprimands they were far more afraid of his sudden hot anger of business of any importance were done without his knowledge and sanction but this time it was not his clerk who wished to intercept the mayor on his way out to Dejeuner it was the chief of the employees in the telephone and telegraph department of the building a forward pushing young man whom Jacques-de-Wisson disliked Misére-de-Wisson disliked Misére-de-Wisson stopped short daunted by the mayor's stern look of impatient fatigue. Has Misére-de-Wisson heard the news the speaker gathered up courage it is exciting to be the bearer of news especially of ill news Mésre-de-Wisson shook his head Alas there has been an accident Mésre-de-Wisson a terrible accident one of the submarines they don't yet know which it is has been struck by a big private yacht and has sunk in the fairway of the channel the mayor of Phalaise uttered an involuntary exclamation of horror when did it happen? he asked quickly about half an hour ago more or less I said that Mésre-de-Wisson ought to be informed at once of such a calamity but I was told to wait until the marriages were over looking fritively at the mayor's pale face the young man regretted that he had not taken more on himself for Mésre-de-Wisson looked seriously displeased there was an old feud between the municipal and the naval authorities in the face of Phalaise there often is an enabled port and the mayor ought certainly to have been among the very first to hear the news of the disaster the bearer of ill news hoped Mésre-de-Wisson would not blame him for the delay or cause the fact to postpone his advancement to a higher grade that advancement which is the perpetual dream of every French government official Di-Admiral has only just driven by he observed insinuatingly not five minutes ago still Jacques-Douisson did not move he was listening to the increasing stir and tumult going on outside in the marketplace the sounds had acquired a sinister significance he knew now that the tramping of feet the loud murmur of voices meant that the whole population belonging to the seafaring portion of the town was emptying itself out and hurring towards the harbor and the shore shaking off the bearer of ill news with a curt word of thanks the mayor of Phalaise strode out of the town hall into the street and joined the eager crowd mostly consisting of fisherfolk which grew denser as it swept down the torturous narrow streets leading to the sea the people parted with a sort of rough respect to make way for their mayor many of them, nay the majority were known by name to Jacques-Douisson and the older men and women among them could remember him as a child rising to the tragic occasion he walked forward with his head held high and a look of deep concern on his pale set face the men who manned the northern submarine flotilla were almost all men born in bread at Phalaise Phalaise famed for the gallant sailors she has ever given to France the hurrying crowd strangely silent in its haste poured out onto the great stone paved quays in which has set the harbor so finely encircled on two sides by the cliffs which give the town its name beyond the harbor, crowded with shipping and now alive with eager little craft and fishing boats making ready to start for the scene of the calamity lay a vast expanse of glistening sea sun-flecked blue pall every eye was fixed the end of the harbor jetty was already roped off only those officially privileged being allowed through to the platform were now stood Admiral de Saint-Vilquier impatiently waiting for the tug which was to take him out to the spot where the disaster had taken place the admiral was a naval officer of the old school of the school who called their men my children and who detested the republican form of government as being subversive of discipline as Jacques de Wissan hurried up to him he turned and stiffly saluted the mayor of Flays Admiral de Saint-Vilquier had no liking for Monsieur de Wissan a cold prig of a fellow and yet married to such a beautiful such a charming young woman the daughter too of one of the admiral's oldest friends of that admiral de Caragay with whom he had first gone to see a matter of fifty years ago the lovely Claire de Caragay had been worthy of a better fate than cold-blooded landmen do they yet know admiral which of the submarines has gone down asked Jacques de Wissan in a low tone he was full of a burning curiosity edged with a longing and a suspense into whose secret sources he had no wish to thrust a probe the admiral's weather-beaten face was a shade less red than usual the bright blue eyes he turned on the younger man were veiled with a film of moisture yes the news has just come in but it isn't to be made public for a while it's the submarine Neptune which was struck with commander Dupri, lieutenant Pareto and ten men on board the craft is lying eighteen fathoms deep Jacques de Wissan uttered an inarticulate cry was it of horror or only of surprise and yet gifted for that once and that once only with a kind of second sight he had known that it was the Neptune and commander Dupri which lay eighteen fathoms deep on the floor of the sea the old seaman moved by the mayor's emotion relaxed into a confidential undertone Dupri I had forgotten that you knew him he is indeed pursued by a malignant fate as of course you are aware he applied a short time ago to be transferred to Toulon and his appointment is in today's gazette in fact he was actually leaving Filet's very evening in order to spend a week with his family before taking up his new command the mayor Filet's stared at the admiral Dupri going away leaving Filet's he repeated incredulously the other nodded Jacques de Wissan drew a long deep breath God how mistaken he had been mistaken as no man, no husband had ever been mistaken before he felt overwhelmed shaken with conflicting emotions in which shame and intense relief predominated in fact that commander Dupri had applied for promotion was to his mind absolute proof that there had been nothing nothing and less than nothing between the naval officer and Claire the admiral's words now made it clear that he, Jacques de Wissan had built up a huge superstructure of jealousy and base thoughts on the fact that poor Dupri and Claire had innocently enjoyed certain tastes in common true such friendships friendships between unmarried men and attractive young married women are generally speaking to be deprecated still Claire had always been correct could now be no doubt as he stood there on the pier staring out as all those about him and behind him were doing at the expanse of dark blue sun-flecked sea there came over Jacques de Wissan a great lightning of the spirit but all too soon his mind, his memory swung back to the tragic business of the moment suddenly the admiral burst into speech addressing himself rather than the silent man by his side the devil of it is he exclaimed that the nearest salvage appliances aura charbon thank god the ministry of marine are alone responsible for that blunder Dupri and his commanders have it seems 36 hour supply of oxygen if indeed they're still living which I feel tempted to hope they are not Jacques de Wissan I was at Bezerta when the looters sank a man doesn't want to remember two such incidences in his career one is quite bad enough I suppose it is indeed known how far the Neptune is injured inquired the mayor of Filet but he spoke mechanically he was not really thinking of what he was saying his inner and real self were still steeped in that strange mingled feeling of shame and relief shame that he should have suspected his wife exultant relief that his jealousy should have been so entirely unfounded no as usual no one knows exactly what did happen but we shall learn something of that presently divers are on their way but even if the craft did sustain no injury what can they do ants might as well attempt to pierce a cannonball he shrugged his shoulders oppressed by the vision his homely simile had conjured up and then for no particular reason save that his wife Claire was very present to him Jacques de Wissan besought himself that it was most unlikely that any tidings of the accident could yet have reached the chalet des dunes the lonely villa on the shore where Claire was now lunching with her sister but at any moment some casual visitor from the town might come out there with the sad news he told himself on easily that it would be well if possible to save his wife from such a shock after all Claire and that excellent commander du Prix had been good friends so much must be admitted nay now he was eager to admit it Jacques de Wissan touched the older man on the arm I should be most grateful admiral for the loan of your motor car I've just remembered that I ought to go home in an hour this terrible affair made me forget it but I shall not be long indeed I must soon be back for there will be all sorts of arrangements to be made at the town hall of course we shall be besieged with inquiry with messages from Paris with telegram my car mousseur is entirely at your disposal the admiral could not help feeling even at so sad and solemn a moment as this a little satirical amusement arrangements at the town hall for sooth if the end of the world were in sight the claims of the municipality of Fillets would not be neglected or forgotten in as far as Jacques de Wissan could arrange it everything in such a case would be ready at the town hall if not at the quarter-deck for the great assize what had enabled disaster to do with the mayor of Fillets after all but in this matter the old admiral allowed prejudice to get the better of him the men now a mirrored in the submarine were with two exceptions their commander and his junior officer mothers, wives, children, sweethearts who were now pressing with wild agonized faces against the barriers drawn across the end of the pier Jacques de Wissan made his way through the crowd his grey frock coat was pulled by many a horny hand and imploring faces gazed with piteous questioning into his but he could give them no comfort not till he found himself actually in the admiral's car did he give his instructions to the chauffeur take me to the chalet des dons as quickly as you can drive without danger he said briefly you probably know where it is the man nodded and looked round consideringly he had never driven so elegantly a tired gentleman before why M. de Wissan looked like a bridegroom the mayor of Fillets should be good for a handsome tip the chauffeur did not need to be told that on such a day time was of importance and once they were out of the narrow torturous streets of the town the admiral's car flew and then for the first time that day the admiral began to feel pleasantly cool nay, there even came over him a certain exhilaration he had been foolish to hold out against motor cars there was a great deal to be said for them after all he owed his wife reparation for his evil thoughts of her he resolved that he would get clear the best automobile money could buy it was always a mistake to economize in such matters his mind took a sudden turn he felt ashamed of his egoism and the sensation disturbed him Fillet's very seldom had occasion to feel ashamed either of his thoughts or of his actions how could he have allowed his attention to stray from the subject which should just now be absorbing his whole mind 36 hours supply of oxygen well, it might have been worse for a great deal can be done in 36 hours true all the salvage appliances so the admiral had said were at Cherbourg what a shameful lack of forethought on someone's part still there was little doubt but that the Neptune would be raised in in time the British navy would send her salvage appliances Jacques de Wissant had a traditional distrust of the English but at such moments all men are brothers and just now the French and the English happened to be allies he himself felt far more kindly to his little girl's governess Ms. Dowdy than he would have done five years ago yes, without doubt the gallant English navy would send salvage appliances there would be some hours of suspense terrible hours for the wives and mothers of the men but those poor women would be upheld by the universal sympathy shown them he himself as mayor of the town would do all he could he would seek those poor women out say consoling hopeful things and Claire would help him she had as he knew a very tender heart especially where seamen were concerned indeed it was a terrible thought that of those brave fellows down there beneath the surface of the waters terrible that is if they were alive alive in the same measure as he Jacques de Wissant was now alive in the keen rushing air alive and waiting for a deliverance that might never come the idea made him feel a queer interior tremor then his mind in spite of himself swung back to its old moorings how strange that he had not been told that Commander Dupri had applied for a change of command doubtless the Mediterranean was better suited being a tideless sea for submarine experiments keen clever Dupri absorbed as he was in his profession had doubtless thought of that but again how odd of Claire not to have mentioned that Dupri was leaving fillets of course it was possible that she also had been ignorant of the fact she very seldom spoke of other people's affairs and lately she had been so dreadfully worried about her sisters, Marie Anne's illness if his wife had known nothing of Commander Dupri's plans it proved as hardly anything else could have done how little real intimacy there could have been between them a man never leaves the woman he loves unless he has grown tired of her then as all the world knows except perchance the poor soul herself no place is too far for him to make for such was Jacques de Wissant's simple cynical philosophy concerning a subject to which he had never given much thought the tender passion had always appeared to him in one of two shapes the one was a grotesque and slightly improper shape which makes men do silly absurd things the other came in the semblance of a sinister demon which wrecks the honour and devastates as nothing else can do the happiness of respectable families it was this second and more hateful form which had haunted him these last few weeks he recalled with a sick feeling of distaste the state of mind and body he had been in that very morning why he had then been in the mood to kill Dupri or at any rate to welcome the news of his death with fierce joy and then simultaneously with his discovery of how groundless had been his jealousy he had learnt the awful fact that the man whom he had wrongly accused lay out there buried and yet alive beneath the glistening sea which was stretched out like a great blue still it was only proper that his wife should be spared the shock of hearing in some casual way of this awful accident Claire had always been sensitive, curiously so to everything that concerned the navy Admiral de Sainte-Vilquier had recalled the horrible submarine disaster of Bésarre-to-Harbour Jacques de Wissant now remembered uncomfortably how very unhappy that side affair had made Claire why one day he had found her in a passion of tears mourning over the tragic fate of those poor sailor men the crew of the loutin of whose very name she was ignorant at the time he had thought her betrayal of feeling very unreasonable but now he understood and even shared to a certain extent the pain she had shown but then he knew Dupri knew and liked him and the men he mirrored in the Neptune were men of filets these were the thoughts which jostled each other and Jacques de Wissant's brain as he sat back in the Admiral's car they were now rushing past the pavillon de Wissant what a pity it was that Claire had not remained at home today it would have been so much pleasant her if one could think of anything being pleasant in such a connection to have gone in and told her the sad news at home her sister Madeline Boudouan though older than Claire was foolishly emotional and unrestrained in the expression of her feelings Madeline was sure to make a scene when she heard of commander Dupri's peril and Jacques de Wissant hated scenes he now asked himself whether there was any real necessity for his telling his wife before her sister all he need do was to send Claire a message by the servant who opened the door to him he would say that she was wanted at home she would think something had happened to one of the children and this would be a good thing for it would prepare her in a measure for ill tidings from what Jacques knew of his wife he believed she would receive the news quietly and he her husband would show her every consideration again he reminded himself that it would be ridiculous to deny the fact that Claire had made a friend almost an intimate of commander Dupri it would be natural for her to be greatly distressed when she heard of the accident there came a familiar cutting in the road and again the sea lay spread out an opaque glistening sheet of steel before him he gazed across with a feeling of melancholy and fearful curiosity to the swarm of craft great and small collecting round the place where the Neptune lay 18 fathoms deep he hoped Claire would not ask to go back into the town with him in order to hear the latest news but if she did so ask then he would raise no objection every filet's woman whatever her rank in life was now full of suspense and anxiety and as the mayor's wife Claire had a right to share that anxious suspense the car was now slowing on the sharp decline leading to the shore and Jacques de Wissan got up and touched the chauffeur on the shoulder stop here he said you needn't drive down to the chalet I want you to turn and wait for me at the Pauvillons de Wissan ask my servants to give you some lunch I may be half an hour or more I'll give you a few filets as soon as I can the chalet de Dune had been well named it stood enclosed in rough palings in a sandy wilderness an attempt had been made to turn the immediate surroundings of the villa into the semblance of a garden there were wind-blown flowers set in sandy flower beds and coarse luxuriant creepers flung their long green ropes about the wooden veranda in front stretching out into the sea was a stone pier built by Jacques's father many a year ago Jacques de Wissan became vaguely uneasy he reconsidered his plan of action if the two sisters were alone together as he supposed them to be he would go in and quietly tell them of the accident it would be making altogether too much of the matter to send for Claire to come out to him she might very properly resent it for the matter of that it was quite possible that Madeline Baudouan had some little sentiment for Dupré that would explain so much the officer's constant reaction was that he had to go back so much the officer's constant presence at the chalet de Doun added to his absence from the pavilion it was odd he had never thought of the possibility before but this new idea made Jacques grow more and more uneasy at the thought of the task which now laid before him with slow hesitating steps he walked up to the little front door of the chalet he pulled the rusty bell handle how absurd to have ironwork in such a place there followed what seemed to him a very long pause he rang again there came the sound of light swift steps he could hear them in spite of the rhythmical surge of the sea and then the door was opened by his sister-in-law Madame Baudouan herself in the midst of his own agitation and unease Jacques de Wisson saw that there was a look of embarrassment on the face which Madeline tried to make amiably welcoming Jacques she exclaimed forgive me for having made you ring twice I have sent the servants into felles to purchase a railway timetable Claire will doubtless have told you that I am starting for Italy tonight or poor Marie-Anne is worse and I feel that it is my duty to go to her she did not step aside to allow him to come in in fact doubtless without meaning to do so she was actually blocking up the door no, Claire had not told Jacques that Marie-Anne was worse that of course was why she had looked so unhappy this morning he felt hurt and angered by his wife's reserve I am sure you will agree Madeline he said stiffly I am sorry to gain a little time that it would not be wise for Claire to accompany you to Italy after all she is still quite a young woman and poor Marie-Anne's disease is most infectious I have ascertained too that there is a regular epidemic raging in Mantua Madeline nodded then she turned with an uneasy side look at her brother-in-law and began leading the way down the short passage the door of the dining room was open Jacques could not help seen that only one place was laid at the round table also that Madeline had just finished her luncheon isn't Claire here he asked surprised she said she was going to lunch with you today hasn't she been here this morning no I mean yes Madeline spoke confusedly she did not stay to lunch she was only here for a very little while but has she gone home again well she may be home by now really don't know Madeline was opening the door of the little drawing room it was an ugly common looking room the walls were hung with turkey red and ornamented with cheap colored prints there were cane and basket chairs which Madame Baudouan had striven to make comfortable with the help of cushions and rugs Jacques de Wusson told himself that it was odd that Claire should like to spend so much of her time here in the chalet des dunes instead of asking her sister to join her own beautiful house on the cliff forgive me, he said stiffly but I can't stay a moment I really came for Claire you say I shall find her at home he held his top hat and his yellow gloves in his hand and his sister-in-law thought she had never seen Jacques look so plain and unattractive and and tiresome as he looked today Madame Baudouan had a special reason for wishing him away but she knew the slow sure workings of his mind if Jacques found that his wife had not come back to the pavilion de Wusson and that there was no news of her there he would most certainly come back to the chalet des dunes for further information no, she said reluctantly Claire has not come back to the pavilion I believe that she has gone into the town she had something important that she wished to do there she looked so troubled so so uncomfortable that Jacques de Wusson leapt to the sudden conclusion that the tidings he had been at such pains to bring had already been brought to the chalet des dunes ah he exclaimed then I am too late ill news travels fast ill news Madeline repeated affraidedly is anything the matter has anything happened to one of the children don't keep me in suspense Jacques I am not called blooded like you the children are all right you said shortly but there has been as you evidently know an accident the submarine Neptune has met with a serious mishap she now lies with her crew in 18 fathoms of water about two miles out he spoke with cold acerbity how childishly foolish of Madeline to try and deceive him but all women of the type to which she belonged make foolish mysteries about nothing the submarine Neptune as she stammered out the question which had already been answered there came over Madeline Baudouan's face a look of measureless terror twice her lips opened madeline Baudouan again at last she uttered a few words words of anguished protest and revolt no no she cried that can't be it's impossible command yourself he said sternly remember what would be thought by anyone who saw you in this state but she went on looking at him with wild terror-stricken eyes my poor Claire she moaned my little sister Claire all Jacques de Wissant's jealousy quivering life then he had been right after all his wife loved Dupré her sister's anguished sympathy had betrayed Claire's secret as nothing Claire herself was ever likely to say or do could have done you are a good sister he said ironically to take Claire's distress so much to heart identifying yourself as entirely as you seem to do with her I'm surprised that you did not accompany her into filets it was most wrong of you to let her go alone Claire is not in filets not in filets she was grasping the back of one of the cane-chairs with her hand as if glad of even that slight support staring at him with a day's look of abject misery which increased his anger his disgust not in filets he echoed sharply then where in God's name is she a most disagreeable possibility had flashed into his mind was it conceivable that his wife had had herself rode to the scene of the disaster if she had done that if her sister had allowed her to go alone or accompanied maybe by one or another of the officers belonging to the submarine flotilla then he told himself with jealous rage that he would find it very difficult ever to forgive Claire there are things a woman with any self-respect especially a woman who is the mother of daughters refrains from doing well he said contemptuously well Madeline I am waiting to hear the truth there are no explanations no excuses I cannot however withhold myself from telling you that you ought to have accompanied your sister even if you found it impossible to control her I was there yesterday said Madeline but one with a pinched white face for over two hours what do you mean yes suspiciously where were you yesterday for over two hours in the Neptune she gazed at him passed him with widely open eyes as if she were staring fascinated at some scene of unutterable horror and there crept into Jacques Duesson's mind a thought so full of shameful dread that he thrust it violently from him he were in the Neptune he said slowly knowing well that it is absolutely forbidden for any officer to take a friend on board a submarine without a special permit from the minister of marine it is sometimes done she said listlessly Madame Baudoin had now sat down on a low chair and she was plucking at the front of her white surge skirt with a curious mechanical movement of the fingers did the submarine actually put out to see with you on board she nodded her head and then very deliberately said yes but I've told you that I was out for two hours they all knew it the men and officers of the flotilla I was horribly frightened but now I'm glad indeed that I went yes I am indeed glad why are you glad he asked roughly and again a hateful suspicion thrust itself insistently upon him I'm glad I went because it will make what Claire has done today seem natural a simple escapade there was a moment of terrible silence between them then do all the officers and men belonging to the flotilla know that my wife is out there in the Neptune Jacques Duesson asked in a low still voice no said Madeline and there was now a look of shame as well as of terror on her face they none of them know only those who are on board she hesitated a moment that is why I sent the servants away this morning we I mean commanded the Pruy and I did not think it necessary that anyone should know the no one that is only a hare-brained young officer and ten men belonging to the town of Felais were to be aware of the fact that my wife had accompanied her lover on this life-risking expedition you and the Pruy were indeed tender of her honor and mine Jacques she took her hand off the chair and faced her brother in law proudly what infamous thing is this that you are harboring in your mind my sister is an honest woman I as honest as I minded as was your own mother he stopped her with a violent gesture do not mention Claire and my mother in this same breath I am sorry but I will I must you want the truth you said just now you want only the truth then you shall heal the truth yes it is as you have evidently suspected Louis du Pruy loves Claire and she her voice faltered then grew firmer she may have had for him a little sentiment who can tell you have not been at much pains to make her happy but what is true what is certain is that she rejected his love today they were to part forever her voice failed again then once more it strengthened and hardened that is why he in a moment of folly I admit it was in a moment of folly asked her to come out on his last cruise in the Neptune when you came I was expecting them back any moment but Jacques do not be afraid I swear to you that no one shall ever know Admiral de Saint-Vilquier will do anything for us cagouais go to him in and explain but Jacques de Wesson scarcely heard the eager pitiful words he had thrust his wife from his mind and her place had been taken by his honour his honour and that of his children of happy light-hearted Claret and Jacqueline for what seemed a long while he said nothing then with all the anger gone from his voice he spoke uttered a fiat no he said quietly you must leave the admiral to me, Madeline you are going to Italy tonight were you not that I take it is true she nodded impatiently what did her proposed journey to Italy matter compared with her beloved Claret's present peril well you must carry on with your plan, my poor Madeline you must go away tonight she stared at him her face at last blotched with tears and a look of bewildered anguish in her eyes you must do this Jacques de Wesson went on deliberately for Claret's sake and for the sake of Claret's children you haven't sufficient self-control to endure suspense calmly secretly you need not go further than Paris but those whom it concerns will be told that Claret has gone with you to Italy there will always be time to tell the truth meanwhile the admiral and I will devise a plan and perhaps he waited a moment the truth will never be known or only known to a very few people people who, as you say, will understand he had spoken very slowly as if weighing each of his words but it was quickly with a queer catch in his voice that he added I ask you to do this, my sister he had never before called Madeline Baudouan my sister because of Claret's children of Claret and Jacqueline their mother would not wish a slur to rest upon them she looked at him with piteous hunted eyes but she knew that she must do what he asked end of section three section four of studies in love and in terror this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Melissa Greene studies in love and in terror by Marie-Bellak Laundes price of admiralty chapter four Jacques de Wissan sat at his desk in the fine old room which is set aside for the mayor's sole use in the town hall of Falaise he was waiting for admiral de Saint-Ville-Quiet whom he had summoned on the plea of a matter both private and urgent in his note of which he had written more than one draft he had omitted none of the punctilio usual in French official correspondence and he had asked pardon in the most formal language for asking the admiral to come to him instead of proposing to go to the admiral the time that had elapsed since he had parted from his sister-in-law like years instead of hours and yet every moment of those hours had been filled with action from the chalet des dunes Jacques had made his way straight to the pavillon de Wissan and there his had been the bitter task of lying to his household they had accepted unquestioningly his statement that their mistress without waiting even to go home had left the chalet des dunes with her sister for Italy owing to the arrival of sudden worst news from Mantua while Claire's luggage was being ordered he had changed his clothes and then overcome with mortal weariness with sick sombre suspense he had returned to Filet's taking the railway station on his way to the town hall and from there going through the grim comedy of dispatching his wife's trunks to Paris since the day war was declared by France on Germany there had never been at the town hall of Filet's so busy in afternoon urgent messages of inquiry and condolence came pouring in from all over the civilized world and the mayor had composed suitable answers to them all to him there also fell the painful duty of officially announcing to the crowd surging impatiently in the marketplace the room in front was always made and kept for those of the fisherfolk who had relatives in the submarine service that it was the Neptune which had gone down he had seen the effect of that announcement painted on rough worn upturned faces and he had heard the cries of anger the groans of despair of the few and had witnessed the relief the tears of joy of the many but his heart felt numb and his cold stern manner kept the emotions and excitement of those about him in check at last there had come a short respite it was publicly announced that owing to the currents the divers had had to suspend their work a while but that salvage appliances from England and from Cherbourg were on their way to Filet's and that it was hoped by seven that evening active operations would begin with luck the Neptune might be raised before midnight fortunate people blessed with optimistic natures were already planning a banquet at which the crew of the Neptune were to be entertained within an hour of the rescue Jacques de Wisson rose from the massive first empire table which formed part of the fine suite of furniture presented by the great Napoleon just a hundred years ago to the municipality of Filet's with Benthead his hands clasped behind him the mayor began walking up and down the long room Admiral de Saint-Ville-Quiet might now come at any moment but the man awaiting him had not yet made up his mind how to word what he had to say how much to tell how much to conceal from his wife's old friend he was only too well aware that if the desperate attempts which would soon be made to raise the Neptune were successful and if its human freight were rescued alive the fact that there had been a woman on board could not be concealed thousands would know tonight and millions tomorrow morning not only would the amazing story provide newspaper readers all of the world with a thrilling unexpected piece of news but the fact that there had been a woman involved in the disaster would be perpetuated as long as our civilization endures in every account of subsequent accidents to submarine craft more intimately vividly agonizing was the knowledge that the story the scandal would be revived when there arose the all important question of a suitable marriage for Claret or Jacqueline as he paced up and down the room longing for and yet dreading the coming of the admiral he visualized what would happen he could almost hear the whispered words yes, dear friend the girl is admirably brought up and has a large fortune also, she and your son have taken quite a fancy for one another but there is that very ugly story of the mother don't you remember that she was with her lover in the submarine Neptune the citizens of Philae still laugh at the story and point her out in the street like mother like daughter, you know thus the miserable man tortured himself turning the knife in his wound but stay supposing the salvage appliances failed as they had failed at Bezerta to raise the Neptune then with the help of admiral de Saint-Vilquier the awful truth might be kept secret at last the door opened Jacques de Wissant took a step forward and as his hand rested loosely for a moment in the old seaman's firmer grasp he gave in many years of his life to postpone the coming interview as you asked me so urgently to do so I have come as your de Wissant to learn what you have to tell me but I'm afraid the time I can spare you must be short as you know I am to be at the station in half an hour to meet the minister of Marine he will probably wish to go out at once to the scene of the calamity and I shall have to accompany him the admiral was annoyed at having been thus sent forward to the town hall and eventually Jacques de Wissant's place to have come to him and then while listening to the other's murmured excuses the old naval officer happened to look straight into the face of the mayor of Philaise and at once a change came over his manner even his voice softened and altered what am I saying so, Mr. de Wissant he exclaimed abruptly but you look extremely ill you mustn't allow this sad business to take such a hold on you it is tragic no doubt that such things must be but remember he uttered the word solemnly they are the price of admiralty I know, I know mother Jacques de Wissant shall we sit down the deadly pallor the look of strain on the face of the man before him was making the admiral feel more and more uneasy it would be very awkward he thought to himself were Jacques de Wissant to be taken ill here now with me ah I have it then he said aloud you have doubtless had nothing to eat as de Wissant nodded but that's absurd it's always madness to go without food believe me, you will want all your strength during the next few days as for me, I had fortunately lunched before I received the sad news I keep to the old hours I do not care for your English day june at one o'clock midday is late enough for me admiral said the wretched man admiral you are really in such a hurry I am quite at your disposal it is a question of honour mothered Jacques de Wissant a question of honour admiral or I should not have troubled you with the matter admiral de Saint-Ville-quiet lent forward but Jacques de Wissant avoided meeting the shrewd searching eyes the honour of a naval family is involved the mayor of Fallais was now speaking in a low pleading voice the admiral stiffened ah, he exclaimed so you have been asked to intercede with me on behalf of some young scapegrice well who is it I'll look into the matter tomorrow morning I really cannot think of anything today but of this terrible business admiral it concerns this business the loss of the Neptune in what way can the honour of a naval family be possibly involved in such a matter there was a touch of hauteure as well as of indignant surprise admiral said Jacques de Wissant deliberately there was there is a woman on board the Neptune a woman in the Neptune that is quite impossible the admiral got up from his chair it is one of our strictest regulations that no stranger be taken on board a submarine without a special permit from the minister of marine countersigned by an admiral no such permit has been issued for many months in no case would a woman be allowed on board commander Dupree is far too conscientious too loyal an officer to break such a regulation commander Dupree said Jacques de Wissant in a low bitter tone was not too conscientious or too loyal an officer to break that regulation for there is I repeat it a woman in the Neptune the admiral sat down again but this is serious very serious he murdered he was thinking of the effect not only at home but abroad of such a breach of discipline he shook his head with a pained angry gesture I understand what happened he said at last the woman was of course poor Dupree's and then something in Jacques de Wissant's pallid face made him substitute for the plain word he meant to have used a softer, kindlier phrase poor Dupree's bonnemy he said advised not said Jacques de Wissant shortly I am told that the person in question is a young lady do you mean an unmarried girl? asked the admiral there was great curiosity and sincere relief in his voice I beg of you not to ask me admiral the family of the lady have implored me to reveal as little of the truth as possible they have taken their own measures and they are good measures to account for her or disappearance the unhappy man spoke with considerable agitation quote so, quote so they are right I have no wish to show indiscreet curiosity do you think anything can be done to prevent the fact becoming known asked Jacques de Wissant and as the other waited a moment before answering the suspense became almost more than he could endure he got up and instinctively stood with his back to the light the family of this young lady are willing to make any pecuniary sacrifice it is not a question of pecuniary sacrifice the admiral said stiffly money will never really purchase either secrecy or silence but honor, M. de Wissant will sometimes, not often do both then you think the fact can be concealed? I think it will be impossible to conceal it if the Neptune is raised and his voice sank as he added the poignant words in time if it happens, though I fear that it is not likely to happen then I promise you that I will allow it to be thought that I had given this lady permission and her improper action will be accepted for what it no doubt was a foolish escapade if Dupri and little Perito are the men of honor I take them to be one or other of them will of course marry her and if the Neptune is not raised the mayor's voice also dropped to a whisper in time what then? then said the admiral everything will be done by me so you can assure your unlucky friends to conceal the fact that Commander Dupri failed in his duty not for his sake you understand he I fear deserves what he has suffered what he is perhaps still suffering a look of horror stole over his old weather roughened face but for the sake of the foolish girl you say it is a naval family? yes said Jacques de Wissan a noted naval family the admiral got up and now I on my side must exact of you a pledge M. de Wissan he looked searchingly at the government official standing before him I solemnly implore you M. de Wissan to keep this fact you have told me absolutely secret for the time being secret even from the Minister of Marine the mayor of Filets has bent his head I intend to act he said slowly as if I had never heard it I ask it for the honour the repute of the service matter the old officer after all M. de Wissan the poor fellow did not mean much harm we sailors have all at different times of our lives had some bon ami whom we founded devilish heart to live on jour the admiral walked slowly towards the door today had aged him years then he turned and looked benignantly at Jacques de Wissan the man before him might be stiff, cold, awkward in manner but he was a gentleman a man of honour and as he drove to the station to meet the Minister of Marine admiral de Sainte-Vilquiez shrewd practical mind began to deal with the difficult problem which was now added to his other cares it was simplified in view of the fact the awful fact in private information it was most unlikely that the submarine would be raised within the next few hours he hoped with all his heart that the twelve men and the woman now lying beneath the sea had met death at the moment of the collision all that summer night the cafes and eating houses of fillets remained open and there was a constant coming and going to the beach where many people even among those visitors who were not directly interested in the calamity camped out on the stones the mayor sent word to the pavillon de Wissan that he would sleep in his townhouse but though he left the town hall at two in the morning he was back at his post by eight and he spent there the whole of the next long dragging day fortunately for him there was little time for thought in addition to the messages of inquiry and condolence which went on pouring in important members of the government arrived from Paris and the provinces there also came to fillets the mother of commander Dupri and the father and brother of Lieutenant Perreton de Wissan made the latter his special care they, the two men were granted the relief of tears but Madame Dupri's silent agony could not be assuaged once when he suddenly came upon her sitting her chin in her hand in his room at the town hall Jacques de Wissan shrank from her blazing eyes and ravaged face so vividly did they recall to him the eyes the face he had seen that April evening Twix Dog and Wolf when he had first leaped upon the truth on the third day all hoped that there could be anyone still living in the Neptune was being abandoned and yet at noon there ran a rumour through the town that knocking had been heard in the submarine the mayor himself drew up an official proclamation in which it was pointed out that it was almost certain that all on board had perished at the time of the collision and that even if any of them had survived for a few hours not one could be alive now and then as one by one the days of waiting began to wear themselves away the world apart from the town which numbered ten of her sons among the doomed men relaxed its painful interest in the fate of the French submarine indeed Fillet's took on an almost winter stillness of aspect for the summer visitors naturally drifted away from a spot which was still the heart of an awful tragedy but Jacques de Wissan did not relax in his duties or his efforts on behalf of the families of the men who still lay eighteen fathoms deep encased in their steel tomb and the town's people were deeply moved by their mayors continued if restrained distress he even put his children his pretty twin daughters Jacqueline and Claret into deep mourning this touched the seafaring portion of the population very much it also became known that Miser de Wissan was suffering from domestic distress of a very sad and intimate kind his sister-in-law was seriously ill in Italy from an infectious disease and his wife who had gone away at a moment's notice to help to nurse her had caught the infection the mayor of Fillet's an admiral de Saint-Vilquier did not often have occasion to meet during those days spent by each of them in entertaining official personages and in composing answers to the messages and inquiries which went on dropping in both by day and by night at the town hall and at the admiral's quarters but there came an hour when admiral de Saint-Vilquier at last sought to have a private word with the mayor of Fillet's I think I have arranged everything satisfactorily he said briefly and you can convey the fact to your friends I do not suppose, as matters are now that there is much fear that the truth will ever come out the old man did not look into Jacques de Wissan's face while he uttered the comforting words he had become aware of many things including Madeline Boudouan's cruise in the Neptune the day before the accident and of her own and Claire de Wissan's reported departure for Italy. Alone among the people who sometimes had friendly speech of the mayor during those somber days of waiting, admiral de Saint-Vilquier did not condole with the anxious husband on the fact that he could not yet leave Fillet's for Mantua. End of section 4 Recording by Melissa Green Section 5 of Studies in Lebanon Terror This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Melissa Green Studies in Love and in Terror by Marie-Bellec Laudness The Price of Admiralty Chapter 5 Jacques de Wissan woke with a start and sat up in bed He had heard a knock but awake or sleeping his ears were never free of the sound of knocking of muffled regular knocking It was the darkest hour of the summer night but with a sharp sense of relief he became aware that what had wakened him this time was a real sound not the slow patient rhythmical tapping which haunted him incessantly But now the knocking had been followed by the opening of his bedroom door and vaguely outlined before him was the short squat form of an old woman who had entered his mother's service when he was a little boy and who always stayed in his townhouse Musurely admiral de Saint-Vilquier It was hours to see Monsieur Jacques on urgent business, she whispered I have put him to wait in the great drawing room It is fortunate that I took all the covers off the furniture yesterday Then the moment of ordeal the moment he had begun to think would never come was upon him He knew this summons to mean that the Neptune had been finely towed into the harbour and that now in this still dark hour before dawn was about to begin the work of taking out the bodies For a week past it had been publicly announced that the following night would see the final scene of the dread drama and each evening, even last evening it had been as publicly announced that nothing could be done for the present Jacques de Wesson had put all his trust in the admiral and in the arrangements the admiral was making to avoid discovery But now as he got up and dressed himself strange to say that phantom sound of knocking had ceased there came over him a frightful sensation of doubt and fear Had he been right to trust Holy to the old naval officer would it not have been better to have taken the minister of marine into his confidence How would it be possible for admiral de Saint-ville-quiet unless backed by governmental authority to allude the vigilance not only of the admiralty officials and of those that were directly interested but also of the journalists who however much the public interested slackened in the disaster still stayed on at filets in order to be present at the last act of the tragedy these thoughts jostled each other and Jacques de Wesson's brain but whether he had been right or wrong it was too late to alter now he went into the room where the admiral stood waiting for him the two men shook hands but neither spoke till they had left the house then as they walked with firm quick steps across the deserted marketplace the admiral said suddenly this is the quietest hour in the 24 and though I anticipate a little trouble with the journalists I think everything will go off quite well his companion muttered a word of assent and the other went on this time in a graph whisper by the way I have had to tell Dr. Tarnier and as Jacques de Wesson gave vent to a stifled exclamation of dismay of course I had to tell Dr. Tarnier he has most nobly offered to go down into the Neptune alone though in doing so he will run considerable personal risk admiral de Saint-ville-quiet paused a moment for the quick pace at which his companion had left the palace I have simply told him that there was a young woman on board he imagines her to have been a Parisian a person of no importance to understand who had come to spend the holiday with Port-au-Prix but he quite realises that the fact must never be revealed he's spoken a dry matter of fact tone there will not be room on the pontoon for more than five or six including ourselves in Dr. Tarnier doubtless some of our newspaper friends will be disappointed that one can speak of disappointment in such a connection but they will have plenty of opportunities of being present tomorrow and the following nights I have arranged with the Minister of Marine for the work to be done only at night as the two men emerged on the quays they saw that the news had leaked out for not so people stood about talking in low hush tones and staring at the middle of the harbour apart from the others and almost dangerously close to the on-guarded edge below which was the dark lapping water stood a line of women shrouded in black and from them came no sound as the admiral and his companions approached the little group of officials who were apparently waiting for them the old naval officer whispered to Jacques de Wesson using for the first time the familiar expression mon ami de not forget mon ami to thank the harbour master and the pilot they have had a very difficult task and they will expect your commendation Jacques de Wesson said the words required of him and then at the last moment just as he was on the point of going down the steps leading to the flat-bottomed boat in which they were to be rode to the pontoon there arose an angry discussion the harbour master had it seemed promised to the representatives of two Paris newspapers that they should be present when the submarine was first opened but the admiral stiffly asserted his supreme authority in such matters I can allow no favouritism it is doubtful if any bodies will be taken out tonight gentlemen for the tide is already turning I will see if other arrangements can be made tomorrow if any of you had been in the harbour of Bezerta when the luton was raised you would not thank me for not allowing you to view the sight which we may be about to see and the weary, disappointed special correspondents who had spent long days watching for this one hour realised that they would have to content themselves with describing what could be seen from the quays it will, however, surprise no one familiar with the remarkable enterprise of the modern press when it is recorded that by far the most accurate account of what occurred during the hour that followed was written by a cosmopolitan war correspondent who had had the good fortune of making Dr. Tarnier's acquaintance during the dull fortnight of waiting he wrote was at once sinister, somber and magnificent below the high narrow pontoon on the floor of the harbour lay the wrecked submarine and those who gazed down at the Neptune felt as though they were in the presence of what had once been a sentient being done to death by some huge goliath of the deep Dr. Tarnier, the chief medical officer of the port a man who is beloved and respected by the whole population of filets stood ready to begin his dreadful task I had ascertained that he had obtained permission to go down alone into the hold of death an exploration attended with the utmost physical risk he was clad in a suit of India rubber clothing and over his arm was folded a large tarpolin sheet lined with carbolic wool one of half a dozen such sheets lying at his feet the difficult work of unsealing the conning tower was then preceded with in the presence of Admiral de Saint-Filquier whose prowess as a midshipman is still remembered by British Crimean veterans and the mayor of Filets M. Jacques de Wisson at last there came a guttural exclamation of Saillet and Dr. Tarnier stepped downwards to emerge a moment later with the first body obviously that of the gallant commander de Prix who was found as it was expected he would be in the conning tower once more the Drs. Burley figure disappeared once more he emerged tenderly bearing a slighter, lighter burden obviously the boyish form of Lieutenant Pareto who was found close to Commander de Prix the tide was rising rapidly but two more bodies this time with the help of a webbed band cleverly designed by Dr. Tarnier with a view to the purpose were lifted from the inner portion of the submarine the four bodies rather to the disappointment of the large crowd which had gradually gathered on the quays were not taken directly to the shore to the great hall where Filets was to mourn her dead sons one by one they were reverently conveyed by the admiral's orders to a barge which was once used as a hospital ward for six sailors and which is close to the mouth of the harbour thence when all twelve bodies have been recovered that is in three or four days for the work is only to be preceded with at night they will be taken to the celled arms there to await the official obsequies on the morning following the night during which the last body was lifted from within the Neptune there ran a curious rumour through the fishing quarter of the town it was said that thirteen bodies not twelve as declared the official report had been taken out of the Neptune it was declared on the authority of one of the seamen Agaskin be it noted who had been there on that first night that five not four bodies had been conveyed to the hospital barge but the rumour, though it found an echo in the French press was not regarded as worth an official denial and it received its final quietess on the day of the official obsequies when it was at once seen that the number of ammunition wagons heading the Great Procession was twelve as long as tradition endures in the life of the town fillets will remember the Neptune funeral procession not only was every navy in the world represented but also every strand of that loosely woven human fabric we civilized people's colonation through the long line of soldiers each man with his arms reversed walked the official mourners from the fortifications there boomed the minute gun first the president of the French Republic with to his right the minister of marine and close behind them the stiff still vigorous figure of old Admiral de Sainte-Vilquier by his side walked the mayor of fillets so mortally pale so what the French call undone that the Admiral felt fearful lest his neighbor should be compelled to fall out but Jacques de Wissant was not minded to fall out the crowd looking on especially the wives of those substantial citizens of the town who stood at their windows behind half closed shutters and drawn blinds stared down at the mayor with pity and concern he has a warm heart though a cold manner murmur these ladies to one another and just now you know he is in great anxiety for his wife that beautiful Claire with whom he doesn't get on very well is in Italy seriously ill scarlet fever yes and as soon as this said ceremony is over he will leave for the south I hear that the president has offered him a seat in his saloon as far as Paris as the head of the procession at last stopped on the great parade ground where the last honors were to be rendered to the lowly yet industrious dead Jacques de Wissant straightened himself with an instinctive gesture and his lips began to move he was muttering to himself the speech he would soon have to deliver in which he had that morning making a great mental effort committed to memory and after the president had had his long emotional in a flowery say and when the oldest of French admirals had stepped forward and in a quavering voice bidden the dead farewell on behalf of the navy it came to the turn of the mayor of Falaise he was there he said simply as the mouthpiece of his fellow townsmen and they bowed as they were by deep personal grief could say but little they could indeed only murmur their eternal gratitude for the sympathy they had received and were now receiving from their countrymen and from the world then Jacques de Wissant gave a brief personal account of each of the ten seamen whom this vast concourse had gathered together to honor it was noted by the curious in such things that he made no allusion to the two officers to Commander du Prix and Lieutenant Periton doubtless he thought that they after all had been amply honored in the preceding speeches but though his care for the lowly heroes proved the mayor of Falaise a good Republican he showed himself in the popular estimation also a scholar for he wound up with the old tag the grand old tag which inspired so many noble souls in the proudest of ancient empires and civilizations and which will retain the power of moving and thrilling generations yet onborn in both the western and the eastern worlds Dolce et decorum est pro patria mori End of section 5 recording by Melissa Green