“That is to say a thousand times a hundred thousand francs!” added the bargeman.
And then Antifer hopped on one leg, then on the other, then stooped and rose, and swung his hips and spun round like a gyroscope, and finally completed his performance with a furious hornpipe. Then he seized Tregomain, and setting that massive form in motion, he worked up the dance to such impetuosity, that the house shook to its foundations as he broke out in a voice that made the windows rattle,—
I have my lon—lon—gi—
I have my gi—gi—tude;
My lon, my gi, my tude—I have my longitude.
CHAPTER IX.
While Antifer was performing in this quartette party Enogate and Juhel had gone off to the mairie and the church. At the mairie the clerk of the marriage department—a leather-faced old fellow, engaged in the manufacture of honeymoons—had shown them the notice of their banns stuck up among the other notices. At the Cathedral the vicar promised them a choral service, address, organ and bells complete.
How happy they were? With what impatience—ill-disguised on the part of Juhel, more reserved on the part of Enogate—did they wait for the 5th of April, the date that had been won from their uncle’s hesitations! How busy they were with their preparations, their wardrobe, their furniture for the pretty room on the first floor, which the generous Tregomain embellished every day with odds and ends that during many years he had collected among the shorefolk of the Rance. Was he not their confidant, and could they have found a better, a safer depository of their hopes and future projects? And twenty times a day would the old bargeman repeat,—
“I would give a lot for the marriage to be over.”
“And why, my good Gildas?” the girl would ask, a little uneasy.
“Friend Antifer is so singular when he gets astride of his hobby, and goes prancing among his millions!”
That, too, was Juhel’s opinion. When you depend on an uncle, an excellent man but somewhat unsettled, you are sure of nothing until the “Yes” has been uttered before the maire.
And as is usual among sailor families there was no time to lose. Either they would have to remain unmarried, or be married as soon as possible. Juhel was under orders to sail as first mate of one of Le Baillif’s largest ships. And then for what months, for what years even, he might be on the seas, thousands of miles from his wife and children, if God blessed their union. As a sailor’s daughter Enogate had reconciled herself to long voyages taking her husband away from her, never imagining it could be otherwise; and therefore all the more reason for not losing a day, as their lives would consist of so many during which they would be separated.
It was of their future that they were talking when they returned from their walk. To their surprise they saw two strangers come out of the house in the Rue des Hautes Salles, and move off, gesticulating furiously. Had these people been to call on Captain Antifer? Juhel had a presentiment that something unusual had occurred.
And any doubt as to this was removed when he and Enogate heard the noise overhead and the improvised song, the last line of which could be heard at the further end of the ramparts.
Had their uncle gone out of his mind?
“What is the matter, aunt?” asked Juhel.
“Your uncle is dancing, my children,” said Nanon.
“But he could not shake the house like this?”
“No, that is Tregomain.”
“What! Is Tregomain dancing too?”
“Probably not to annoy uncle!” said Enogate.
The three went upstairs, and very naturally supposed that Antifer had gone mad, when they saw him capering about and yelling at the top of his voice,—
I have my lon—lon—gi—
I have my gi—gi—tude.
And then Tregomain, joining in, puffing as if he were in danger of a stroke of apoplexy,—
Oh yes, his gi, his longitude!
A revelation suddenly enlightened Juhel. Those two strangers who had just left the house! Was this the untoward messenger of Kamylk Pasha who had arrived at last?
The young man turned pale, and stopping Antifer in the middle of a step,—
“What, uncle,” he said, “have you got it?”
“I have it.”
“He has it!” murmured Tregomain. And he sank on to a chair, which being unable to oppose an impossible resistance, broke to pieces beneath him.
As soon as their uncle had recovered his breath, Enogate and Juhel were told what had happened the dav before,—the arrival of Ben Omar and his clerk, the attempt at extortion relative to Kamylk’s letter, the contents of the will, the exact longitude of the island where the treasure was buried—Captain Antifer had only to stoop to pick it up!
“Well, uncle, now that these two individuals know where the nest is, they can get it before you can!”
“Wait a minute!” exclaimed Antifer, shrugging up his shoulders. “Do you think I was fool enough to give them the key of the strong-box?”
And Tregomain emphasized the question by solemnly shaking his head.
“A strong-box which holds four millions!”
And the word millions appeared to swell in Antifer’s mouth as if it would choke him.
If he expected that this declaration would be welcomed with shouts of enthusiasm, he was promptly undeceived. What! a shower of gold of which Danae would have been jealous, a torrent of diamonds and precious stones pouring on to this humble house, and not a hand held out for them, not one to tear off the roof so as not to lose a drop of the rain of wealth.
Yet so it was. A glacial silence received the phrase stuffed with millions so triumphantly declaimed by the author.
“Ah, that is it!” he said, looking at one after the other his sister, his nephew, his niece, his friend. “I tell you I am as rich as Croesus, that I return from Eldorado laden with gold enough to sink me, and you do not even fall on my neck and wish me joy!”
There was no reply. Nothing but eyes cast down and faces turned away.
“Well, Nanon?”
“Yes, brother,” replied Nanon, “it is a nice little fortune.”
“A nice little fortune! More than three hundred thousand francs to eat every day of the year! And you, Enogate, do you also think it is a nice little fortune?”
“Uncle!” said the girl, “it is not necessary to be as rich as that—”
“Yes. I know. I know the rest! Money does not make happiness! Is that your opinion, Mr. Captain?” asked the uncle of his nephew.
“My opinion,” replied Juhel, “is that this Egyptian ought to have thrown the title of Pasha into the bargain, for so much money and no title—”
“Ha, ha! Antifer Pasha!” said the bargeman with a chuckle.
“Steady there!” in a tone of command! “Steady there, ex-captain of the Charmante Amélie, are you trying to make fun of me?”
“I, my worthy friend!” replied Tregomain—“certainly not. And if you are so pleased with your millions, I offer you a hundred million compliments.”