remain engraved on their memories):

"Simon, you really believe, don't you, that I was entitled to leave
home?"

"Why," he exclaimed, in surprise, "don't we love each other?"

"Yes, we love each other," she murmured. "And then there's the life
which I was leading with a woman whose one delight was to insult my
mother. . . ."

She said no more. Simon had laid his hand on hers and nothing could
reassure her more effectually than the fondness of that pressure.

The four boys, who had disappeared again, came running back:

"You can see the company's mail-boat that left Dieppe at the same time
that we left Newhaven. She's called the _Pays de Caux_. We shall pass
her in a quarter of an hour. So you see, mama, there's no danger."

"Yes, but it's afterwards, when we get closer to Dieppe."

"Why?" objected her husband. "The other boat hasn't signalled anything
extraordinary. The danger is altering its position, moving farther
away. . . ."

The mother made no reply. Her face retained the same piteous
expression. The little girl at her knee was still silently crying.

The captain passed Simon and saluted.

And a few more minutes elapsed.

Simon was whispering words of love which Isabel did not catch very
distinctly. The little girl's constant tears were causing her some
distress.

Shortly after, a gust of wind made the waves leap higher. Here and
there streaks of white, seething foam appeared. There was nothing
remarkable in this, as the wind was gaining in force and lashing the
crests of the waves. But why did these foaming billows appear only in
one part and that precisely the part which they were about to cross?

The father and mother had risen to their feet. Other passengers were
leaning over the rails. The captain was seen running up the
poop-steps.

And it came suddenly, in a moment.

Before Isabel and Simon, sitting self-absorbed, had the least idea of
what was happening, a frightful clamour, made up of a thousand
shrieks, rose from all parts of the boat, from port and starboard,
from stem to stern, even from below; from every side, as though the
minds of all had been obsessed by the possibility of disaster, as
though all eyes, from the moment of departure, had been watching for
the slightest premonitory sign.

A monstrous sight. Three hundred yards ahead, as though in the centre
of a target at which the bows of the vessel were aimed, a hideous
fountain had burst from the surface of the sea, bombarding