stopped. She walked back a few paces,
stopped again; then returned and sat upon a wooden bench. The moon was
in the trees; a few clouds floated among the pale stars; the sea
murmured to the shadows in an undertone.

Gilliatt felt a thrill through him. He was the most miserable and yet
the happiest of men. He knew not what to do. His delirious joy at seeing
her annihilated him. He gazed upon her neck--her hair.

A noise aroused them both--her from her reverie, him from his ecstasy.
Someone was walking in the garden. It was the footsteps of a man.
Derouchette raised her eyes. The footsteps drew nearer, then ceased.
Accident had so placed the branches that Derouchette could see the
newcomer while Gilliatt could not. He looked at Derouchette.

She was quite pale; her mouth was partly open, as with a suppressed cry
of surprise. Her surprise was enchantment mingled with timidity. She
seemed as if transfigured by that presence; as if the being whom she saw
before her belonged not to this earth.

The stranger, who was to Gilliatt only a shadow, spoke. A voice issued
from the trees, softer than the voice of a woman; yet it was the voice
of a man. Gilliatt heard many words, then, "Mademoiselle, you are poor;
since this morning I am rich. Will you have me for your husband? I love
you. God made not the heart of man to be silent. He has promised him
eternity with the intention that he should not be alone. There is for me
but one woman on the earth; it is you. I think of you as of a prayer. My
faith is in God, and my hope in you."

Gilliatt heard them talking--the woman he loved, the man whose shadow
lay upon the path. Presently he heard the invisible man exclaim:
"Mademoiselle! You are silent."

"What would you have me say?"

The man said, "I wait for your reply."

"God has heard it," answered Derouchette.

Then she went forward; a moment afterwards, instead of one shadow upon
the path, there were two. They mingled together, and became one.
Gilliatt saw at his feet the embrace of those two shadows.

Suddenly a noise burst forth at a distance. A voice was heard crying
"Help!" and the harbour bell rang out on the night air.

It was Lethierry ringing the bell furiously. He had wakened, and seen
the funnel of the Durande in the harbour. The sight had driven him
almost crazy. He rushed out crying "Help!" and pulling the great bell of
the harbour. Suddenly he stopped abruptly. A man had just turned the
corner of the quay. It