omber tone began, in turn, to be
replaced by a lighter neutral tint, she made out dimly the figure of the
girl. As by a species of fascination, she continued to look at her while
the morn unfolded slowly. From behind a dark promontory of vapor,
Aurora's warm hand now tossed out a few careless ribbons. They lightened
the chilly-looking sea; they touched a golden tress--just one, that
stole out from under the gray blanket. The girl's face could not be
seen; the heavy covering concealed the lines of the lithe young form.

As she continued to sleep--undisturbed by the first manifestations of
the dawn--the woman's glance swept backward to him at the helm. The
shafts of light showed now his face, worn and set, yet strangely
transfigured. He did not seem to notice her; beneath heavy lids his
quick glances shot this way and that to where wisps of mist on the
surface of the sea partly obscured the outlook. Sonia Turgeinov divined
his purpose; he was looking for the _Nevski_. But although he continued
to search in the direction of the yacht, he did not catch sight of her.
Only the winding and twining diaphanous veils played where he feared she
might have been visible. An expression of great satisfaction passed over
his features.

Then he swayed from sheer weariness; he could have dropped gladly to the
bottom of the boat. Brain as well as sinew has its limitations and the
night had been long and trying. He had done work that called for
tenseness and mental concentration every moment. He had outlasted divers
and many periods when catastrophe might have overwhelmed them, and now
that the blackness which had shrouded a thousand unseen risks and perils
had been swept aside, an almost overpowering reaction claimed him. This
natural lassitude became the more marked after he had scanned the
horizon in vain for the prince's pleasure-yacht.

His task, however, was far from over, and he straightened. To Sonia
Turgeinov, his gaze and his expression were almost somnambulistic. He
continued steering, guiding their destinies as by force of habit.
Luckily the breeze had waned and the boat danced more gaily than
dangerously. It threw little rainbows of spray in the air; he blinked at
them, his eyes half closed. In the bow the old dun-colored blanket
stirred but he did not see it. A glorious sun swept up, and began to lap
thirstily the wavering mists from the surface of the sea.

Sonia Turgeinov spoke now softly to the steersman. What she said