mer's account,
you two. I'm not in the least sleepy,--I'll sit up with you to any
hour."

"It is droll to go to bed in broad daylight," said Duprez. "But it must
be done. _Cher Philippe_, your eyes are heavy. 'To bed, to bed,' as the
excellent Madame Macbeth says. Ah! _quelle femme!_ What an exciting wife
she was for a man? Come, let us follow our dear Lorimer,--his music was
delicious. Good night or good morning? . . . I know not which it is in
this strange land where the sun shines always! It is confusing!"

They shook hands and separated. Errington, however, unable to compose
his mind to rest, went into his cabin merely to come out of it again and
betake himself to the deck, where he decided to walk up and down till he
felt sleepy. He wished to be alone with his own thoughts for awhile--to
try and resolve the meaning of this strange new emotion that possessed
him,--a feeling that was half pleasing, half painful, and that certainly
moved him to a sort of shame. A man, if he be strong and healthy, is
always more or less ashamed when Love, with a single effort, proves him
to be weaker than a blade of grass swaying in the wind. What! all his
dignity, all his resoluteness, all his authority swept down by the light
touch of a mere willow wand? for the very sake of his own manhood and
self-respect, he cannot help but be ashamed! It is as though a little
nude, laughing child mocked at a lion's strength, and made him a
helpless prisoner with a fragile daisy chain. So the god Eros begins his
battles, which end in perpetual victory,--first fear and shame,--then
desire and passion,--then conquest and possession. And afterwards? ah!
. . . afterwards the pagan deity is powerless,--a higher God, a grander
force, a nobler creed must carry Love to its supreme and best
fulfillment.

CHAPTER VIII.

"Le vent qui vient a travers la montagne
M'a rendu fou!"
VICTOR HUGO.

It was half an hour past midnight. Sir Philip was left in absolute
solitude to enjoy his meditative stroll on deck, for the full radiance
of light that streamed over the sea and land was too clear and brilliant
to necessitate the attendance of any of the sailors for the purpose of
guarding the _Eulalie_. She was safely anchored and distinctly visible
to all boats or fishing craft crossing the Fjord, so that unless a
sudden gale should blow, which did not seem probable in the present
state of the