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Updated: June 20, 2025
Battalions unable to land drifted back with the tides to Granville, whence they had come. Boats containing the heavy ammunition and a regiment of conscripts were battered upon the rocks, and hundreds of the invaders found an unquiet grave upon the Banc des Violets. Presently the traitor Delagarde arrived and was welcomed warmly by Rullecour.
So that was to be the legend, Ranulph meditated: his father was to have a glorious memory, while he himself knew how vile the man was. One thing however: he was glad that Olivier Delagarde was dead. How strangely had things happened! He had come to stay a traitor in his crime, and here he found a martyr. But was not he himself likewise a traitor?
If he lands safe, and the English troops ain't roused, he'll take the town and hold the island easy enough." "But the pilot, is he certain safe?" asked another voice. Ranulph recognised it as that of the baker Carcaud, who owned the shop. "Olivier Delagarde isn't so sure of him." Olivier Delagarde! The lad started. That was his father's name.
"There'll be no need for Guilbert to go from you," he rejoined, "for when your rights come to you, Philip d'Avranche will not be living." "Will not be living!" she said in amazement. She did not understand. "I mean to kill him," he answered sternly. She started, and the light of anger leaped into her eyes. "You mean to kill Philip d'Avranche you, Maitre Ranulph Delagarde!" she exclaimed.
He drew a sigh of relief and misery in one. At that instant he caught sight of the flushed face of Detricand, who broke into a laugh of tipsy mirth when Olivier Delagarde told how the French officer had stricken him down as he was about finishing off Rullecour. All at once the whole thing rushed upon Ranulph. What a fool he had been!
On the day that Carcaud the baker and Mattingley were arrested, he deserted the hut at Plemont to exploit, with Ranulph, the adventure which was at last to save Olivier Delagarde and Mattingley from death. But he had been unfaithful only in the letter of his bond.
Three or four men rushed forward on Ranulph. He hurled them back. Others came on with weapons. The girl fled for an instant, then reappeared with a musket, as the people were crowding in on Delagarde with threats and execrations. "Stop! stop!" cried the girl from above, as Ranulph seized a black-smith's hammer to meet the onset.
Poising a half-loaf of bread on the ledge of the roof, he began to slowly toll the cracked bell at his hand for Rullecour the filibuster. The bell clanged out: Chicane-chicane! Chicane-chicane! Another bell answered from the church by the square, a deep, mournful note. It was tolling for Peirson and his dead comrades. Against the statue in the Vier Marchi leaned Ranulph Delagarde.
Detricand held it down, and there was revealed the haggard, malicious face of Olivier Delagarde. "So, monsieur the traitor," said Detricand "so you'd be a murderer too eh?" The old man mumbled an oath. "Hand of the devil," continued Detricand, "was there ever a greater beast than you!
Not yet had a blow been struck for the honour of this land and of the Kingdom. But a blind injustice was, in its own way, doing the work of justice. On the march, Delagarde, suspecting treachery to himself, not without reason, required of Rullecour guarantee for the fulfilment of his pledge to make him Vicomte of the Island when victory should be theirs.
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