and peace. "No," said Renouard, feeling suddenly as steady as a
rock. "But I can show you a view from the central hill which your
father has not seen. A view of reefs and of broken water without
end, and of great wheeling clouds of sea-birds."

She came down the verandah steps at once and they moved off. "You
go first," he proposed, "and I'll direct you. To the left."

She was wearing a short nankin skirt, a muslin blouse; he could see
through the thin stuff the skin of her shoulders, of her arms. The
noble delicacy of her neck caused him a sort of transport. "The
path begins where these three palms are. The only palms on the
island."

"I see."

She never turned her head. After a while she observed: "This path
looks as if it had been made recently."

"Quite recently," he assented very low.

They went on climbing steadily without exchanging another word; and
when they stood on the top she gazed a long time before her. The
low evening mist veiled the further limit of the reefs. Above the
enormous and melancholy confusion, as of a fleet of wrecked
islands, the restless myriads of sea-birds rolled and unrolled dark
ribbons on the sky, gathered in clouds, soared and stooped like a
play of shadows, for they were too far for them to hear their
cries.