air, there was a clang of
iron on iron, and De Plonville found himself whirling in space: then
sinking in the sea. Coming breathless to the surface, he saw the buoy
revolving slowly, and a deep dinge in its side seemed to slide over its
top and disappear into the water, showing where the shot had struck.
The second boat did not fire, and he knew that they were examining the
buoy with their glasses. He swam around to the other side, intending to
catch a ring and have it haul him up where he could be seen. Before he
reached the place the buoy was at rest again, and as he laboriously
climbed on top more dead than alive, the second ship opened fire. He
lay down at full length exhausted, and hoped if they were going to hit
they would hit quick. Life was not worth having on these conditions. He
felt the hot sun on his back, and listened dreamily to the cannon. Hope
was gone, and he wondered at himself for feeling a remote rather than
an active interest in his fate. He thought of himself as somebody else,
and felt a vague impersonal pity. He criticised the random firing, and
suspected the hit was merely a fluke. When his back was dry he rolled
lazily over and lay gazing up at the cloudless sky. For greater comfort
he placed his hands beneath his head. The sky faded, and a moment's
unconsciousness intervened.

"This won't do," he cried, shaking himself. "If I fall asleep I shall
roll off."

He sat up again, his joints stiff with his immersion, and watched the
distant ironclads. He saw with languid interest a ball strike the
water, take a new flight, and plunge into the sea far to the right. He
thought that the vagaries of cannon-balls at sea would make an
interesting study.

"Are you injured?" cried a clear voice behind him.

"_Mon Dieu!_" shouted the young man in a genuine fright, as he
sprang to his feet.

"Oh, I beg pardon," as if a rescuer need apologize, "I thought you were
M. De Plonville."

"I _am_ De Plonville."

"Your hair is grey," she said in an awed whisper; then added, "and no
wonder."

"Mademoiselle," replied the stricken young man, placing his hand on his
heart, "it is needless to deny--I do not deny--that I was frightened--
but--I did not think--not so much as that, I regret. It is so--so--
theatrical--I am deeply sorrowful."

"Please say no more, but come quickly. Can you come down? Step exactly
in the middle of the canoe. Be careful--it is easily upset--and sit
down at once. That was very nicely