On the edge of the pool a woman's figure clad in white stood balanced
with outstretched arms. So still was the water, so splendid the
moonlight, that the whole of her light form was mirrored there--a
perfect image of nymph-like grace. She sang a soft, low, trilling song
like the song of a blackbird awaking to the dawn.

"By Jupiter!" Knight murmured to himself. "If I could get her only
once--only once--as--she--is!"

The gleam of the hunter was in his look. He stood on the rocks some
yards away from her, gazing with eyes half-shut.

Suddenly she turned herself, and across the intervening space her voice
came to him, half-mocking, half-alluring, "Have you found your
inspiration yet?"

"Not yet," he said.

She raised her shoulders with a humorous gesture, "Hasn't the magic
begun to work?"

He came towards her, moving slowly and with caution. "Don't move!" he
said.

She waited for him on the edge of the pool. There was laughter in her
eyes, laughter and the sublime daring of innocence.

He reached her. They stood together on the same flat rock. He bent to
her, in his eyes the burning worship of beauty.