n the little
English girl began to smile and murmured:

"'It is we who are shipwrecked.'

"I tried to laugh, but fear held me, a fear which was cowardly and
horrid and base and treacherous like the tide. All the danger which we
ran appeared to me at once. I wanted to shriek: 'Help!' But to whom?

"The two younger girls were clinging to their father, who looked in
consternation at the measureless sea which hedged us round about.

"The night fell as swiftly as the ocean rose--a lowering, wet, icy
night.

"I said:

"'There's nothing to do but to stay on the ship:

"The Englishman answered:

"'Oh, yes!'

"And we waited there a quarter of an hour, half an hour, indeed I don't
know how long, watching that creeping water growing deeper as it
swirled around us, as though it were playing on the beach, which it had
regained.

"One of the young girls was cold, and we went below to shelter ourselves
from the light but freezing wind that made our skins tingle.

"I leaned over the hatchway. The ship was full of water. So we had to
cower against the stern planking, which shielded us a little.

"Darkness was now coming on, and we remained huddled together. I felt
the shoulder of the little English girl trembling against mine, her
teeth chattering from time to time. But I also felt the gentle warmth of
her body through her ulster, and that warmth was as delicious to me as
a kiss. We no longer spoke; we sat motionless, mute, cowering down
like animals in a ditch when a hurricane is raging. And, nevertheless,
despite the night, despite the terrible and increasing danger, I began
to feel happy that I was there, glad of the cold and the peril, glad of
the long hours of darkness and anguish that I must pass on this plank so
near this dainty, pretty little girl.

"I asked myself, 'Why this strange sensation of well-being and of joy?'

"Why! Does one know? Because she was there? Who? She, a little unknown
English girl? I did not love her, I did not even know her. And for all
that, I was touched and conquered. I wanted to save her, to sacrifice
myself for her, to commit a thousand follies! Strange thing! How does it
happen that the presence of a woman overwhelms us so? Is it the power of
her grace which enfolds us? Is it the seduction of her beauty and youth,
which intoxicates one like wine?

"Is it not rather the touch of Love, of Love the Mysterious, who seeks
constantly to unite two beings, who tries his strength the insta