He nodded sagely. "Maman--" he said. She turned to him; the little
figure was erect with a sweet importance. "Maman, what am I now--with
the sword?" he asked, with wide-open, amazed eyes.

A strange look passed across her face. Stooping, she kissed his curly
hair.

"You are my prince," she said.

A little later the two were standing on that point of land called
Grosnez--the brow of the Jersey tiger. Not far from them was a signal-
staff which telegraphed to another signal-staff inland. Upon the staff
now was hoisted a red flag. Guida knew the signals well. The red flag
meant warships in sight. Then bags were hoisted that told of the number
of vessels: one, two, three, four, five, six, then one next the upright,
meaning seven. Last of all came the signal that a flag-ship was among
them.

This was a fleet in command of an admiral. There, not far out, between
Guernsey and Jersey, was the squadron itself. Guida watched it for a
long while, her heart hardening; but seeing that the men by the signal-
staff were watching her, she took the child and went to a spot where they
were shielded from any eyes. Here she watched the fleet draw nearer and
nearer.

The vessels passed almost within a stone's throw of her. She could see
the St. George's Cross flying at the fore of the largest ship. That was
the admiral's flag--that was the flag of Admiral Prince Philip
d'Avranche, Duc de Bercy.