and; and one might wander
miles away from where the poor little creature is at this instant. The
great archangel St. Michel protect her!"

"I will go," said the mother, lifting herself up; and, raising her
voice, she called loudly, with a cry that rang and echoed against the
walls, "Phine! Phine! my little Phine, come back to thy poor mother!"
But there was no answer, except the sobs and prayers of the women and
children clustering behind her.

"Thou canst not go!" exclaimed Nicolas; "there are our other little ones
to think of; nor can I leave thee and them. My God! is there then no one
who will go and seek my little Delphine?"

"I will go," answered Michel, standing out from among the crowd, and
facing it with his white face and resolute eyes; "there is only one
among you all upon the Mont who will miss me. I leave my mother to your
care. There is no time for me to bid her adieu. If I come back alive,
well! if I perish, that will be well also!"

Even then there was no cordiality of response on the hearts of his old
friends and neighbours. The superstition and prejudice of long years
could not be broken down in one moment and by one act of self-sacrifice.
They watched Michel as he laid his full creel down from his shoulders,
and threw across them the strong square net with which he fished in the
ebbing tide. His silence was no less expressive than theirs. Without a
sound he passed away barefooted down the rude causeway. His face, as the
sun shone on it, was set and resolute with a determination to face the
end, whatever the end might be. He might have so trodden the path to
Calvary.

He longed to speak to them, to say adieu to them; but he waited in vain
for one voice to break the silence. He turned round before he was too
far away, and saw them still clustered without the gate; every one of
them known to him from his boyhood, the story of whose lives had been
bound up with his own and formed a part of his history. They were all
there, except his mother, who would soon hear what peril of the sea and
peril of the night he was about to face. Tears dimmed his eyes, and
made the group grow indistinct, as though the mist had already gathered
between him and them. Then he quickened his steps, and the people
of Mont St. Michel lost sight of him behind a great buttress of the
ramparts.

But for a time Michel could still see the Mont as he hurried along its
base, going westward, where the most treacherous sands lie. His