OR THE DESERT ISLAND. 89

don, and of conducting him to his own cabin. Whilst he
was yet hesitating, Count Charles, raising his eyes, signi-
fied to Philip, by a haughty motion of his hand, that he
wished him to withdraw. Philip had not moral courage
sufficient to seek a reconciliation, and he returned home-
wards with an upbraiding and sorrowing conscience.

Charles, like one broken down by the weight of his own
insupportable afflictions, remained sitting on the boat-
swain’s grave, his head resting between his hands, igno-
rant that he was now alone, and seemingly lost to all self-
consciousness.

The languor and melancholy which had enervated his
mind, rendered him averse to answer Philip’s menace:
and although it was still ringing in his ears, the confusion
and trouble of his spirits compelled him to silence ; and,
for the first time in his life, he was the first to retreat from
a war of retaliation.

In extreme need of repose, and probably forgetting that
his enemy cared nothing for his orders, he had commanded
Philip to retire with that gesticulation of authority which
had been so long familiar to him.

Philip, however, for this once, had yielded obedience to
his imperious mandate. Long after he had departed, the
count raised his head, and, looking round, felt himself less
miserable in finding that he was alone.