There was a large crowd in the port, and it parted to make way for Morrel. Every voice was crying: ‘The Pharaon! The Pharaon!’ And, indeed, something wonderful, unimaginable: off the Tour Saint-Jean, a ship with these words in white letters inscribed on its prow: ‘Pharaon (Morrel and Son of Marseille)’, exactly like the other Pharaon, laden like the other with cochineal and indigo, was lowering its anchor and furling its sails.

As Morrel and his son were embracing on the jetty, to the applause of the whole town which had come to see this extraordinary event, a man, his face half covered by a black beard, who had been hiding behind a sentry box and observing the scene with obvious emotion, muttered the following words: ‘Be happy, noble heart. Be blessed for all the good you have done and will yet do. Let my gratitude remain hidden in the shadows like your good deeds.’

With a smile in which joy and happiness mingled, he left his hiding-place, without anyone paying any attention to him, so preoccupied were they with the events of the day, and went down one of those small flights of steps that serve as a landing-stage, crying three times: ‘Jacopo! Jacopo! Jacopo!’

At this, a boat rowed over to him, took him aboard and carried him out to a yacht, superbly fitted out, on to the deck of which he leapt with the agility of a sailor. From there, he looked once again towards Morrel who, weeping with joy, was shaking the hands of everyone in the crowd and vaguely thanking his unknown benefactor whom he seemed to be searching for in the sky.

‘And now,’ said the stranger, ‘farewell, goodness, humanity, gratitude… Farewell all those feelings that nourish and illuminate the heart! I have taken the place of Providence to reward the good; now let the avenging God make way for me to punish the wrongdoer!’

At this, he gave a sign and, as if it had been waiting just for this to set sail, the yacht headed out to sea.