“No, no,” replied Philip, recovering himself; “it was addressed to her; I have heard her swear to her husband, that she would exist for no other but him.”

“Ha! ha!  Is that all?” replied the Commandant, “my friend, you do not know women.”

“No, nor is he very partial to them either,” replied Krantz, who then leant over to the Commandant and whispered, “He is always so when you talk of women.  He was cruelly jilted once, and hates the whole sex.”

“Then we must be merciful to him,” replied the little officer:  “suppose we change the subject.”

When they repaired to their own room, Krantz pointed out to Philip the necessity for his commanding his feelings, as otherwise they would again be immured in the dungeon.  Philip acknowledged his rashness, but pointed out to Krantz, that the circumstance of Amine having promised to marry the Commandant, if he procured certain intelligence of his death, was the cause of his irritation.  “Can it be so?  Is it possible that she can have been so false,” exclaimed Philip; “yet his anxiety to procure that document seems to warrant the truth of his assertion.”

“I think, Philip, that in all probability it is true,” replied Krantz, carelessly; “but of this you may be assured that she has been placed in a situation of great peril, and has only done so to save herself for your sake.  When you meet, depend upon it she will fully prove to you that necessity had compelled her to deceive him in that way, and that if she had not done so, she would, by this time, have fallen a prey to his violence.”

“It may be so,” replied Philip, gravely.

“It is so, Philip, my life upon it.  Do not for a moment harbour a thought so injurious to one who lives but in your love.  Suspect that fond and devoted creature!  I blush for you, Philip Vanderdecken.”

“You are right, and I beg her pardon for allowing such feelings or thoughts to have for one moment overpowered me,” responded Philip; “but it is a hard case for a husband, who loves as I do, to hear his wife’s name bandied about, and her character assailed by a contemptible wretch like this Commandant.”

“It is, I grant; but still I prefer even that to a dungeon,” replied Krantz, “and so, good-night.”

For three weeks they remained in the fort, every day becoming more intimate with the Commandant, who often communicated with Krantz, when Philip was not present, turning the conversation upon his love for Amine, and entering into a minute detail of all that had passed.  Krantz perceived that he was right in his opinion, and that Amine had only been cajoling the Commandant, that she might escape.  But the time passed heavily away with Philip and Krantz, for no vessel made its appearance.

“When shall I see her again?” soliloquised Philip one morning as he lolled over the parapet, in company with Krantz.

“See! who?” said the Commandant, who happened to be at his elbow.