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Updated: May 26, 2025
A man made his way out of the crowd, and standing before her, pale and anxious, said, "You would marry him, Miss Dérouchette?" It was Gilliatt. All eyes were turned towards him. Lethierry had just before stood upright and gazed about him. His eyes glittered with a strange light.
Lethierry rushed at him, embraced him, hugged him, cried over him, and dragged him into the lower room of the Bravées. "Give me your word that I am not crazy!" he kept crying. "It can't be true. Not a tap, not a pin missing. It is incredible. We have only to put in a little oil. What a revolution! You are my child, my son, my Providence. Brave lad! To go and fetch my good old engine.
He comes and sets me up again as firm as ever. And all the while I was never thinking of him. He had gone clean out of my mind; but I recollect everything now. Poor lad! Ah, by the way, you know you are to marry Dérouchette." Gilliatt leaned with his back against the wall, like one who staggers, and said, in a tone very low, but distinct, "No." Lethierry started. "How, no?" "I do not love her."
It was Lethierry ringing the bell furiously. He had wakened, and seen the funnel of the Durande in the harbour. The sight had driven him almost crazy. He rushed out crying "Help!" and pulling the great bell of the harbour. Suddenly he stopped abruptly. A man had just turned the corner of the quay. It was Gilliatt.
In the open sea among those cut-throat rocks. I have seen some strange things in my life; nothing like that." Gilliatt gave him the belt and the box containing the three thousand pounds stolen by Clubin. Again Lethierry was thrown into a wild amazement. "Did anyone ever see a man like Gilliatt?" he concluded. "I was struck down to the ground, I was a dead man.
"This is my son-in-law!" cried Lethierry. "How he has struggled with the sea! He is all in rags. What shoulders! What hands! There's a splendid fellow!" But Lethierry did not know Gilliatt. The poor broken creature escaped from the room.
It was one of the inhabitants, driving by quickly. "There is news, Gilliatt at the Bravées." "What is it?" "I am too hurried to tell you the story. Go up to the house, and you will learn." The Bravées was the residence of a man named Lethierry.
Lethierry laughed that idea to scorn. He was wild with joy. Gilliatt, his son, his preserver, should marry Dérouchette he, and none other. Neighbours had begun to flock in, roused by the bell. The room was crowded. Dérouchette presently glided in, and was espied by Lethierry in the crowd. He seized her; told her the news. "We are rich again!
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