Grace, who was just going up stairs, stopped and listened. "I only
hear the sea which strikes and rages against the rocks," said she.

"Let it beat as it will, it will not wake me," said John. "I am too
weary."

Good nights were exchanged, and they all betook themselves to bed;
and, in a quarter of an hour after, every one slept, rocked by the
storm which roared around the tower, beat against the lighthouse,
shook its thick glass, and sought in vain to reach the flame. The
tempest increased from hour to hour. It rose in mountainous waves,
and broke against the rocks with a tremendous noise.

These sounds were heard in Grace's dreams; she thought she saw men
and women struggling with the waves; they called her to their
rescue; she held out her hand, and felt herself drawn into the gulf
with them. Presently she heard a cry. She sat up in her bed; the day
began to dawn; it might be four o'clock in the morning. The wind
brought to her ear a cry shriller than the first. This time she was
not mistaken; it was a human voice.

Her whole heart was agitated. Quickly as possible she climbed to the
steps that led to the outer platform of the lighthouse. Her father
was there before her. Clinging to the balustrade, he looked all
around; but his eyes were unable to see through the fog and the
rain; he saw nothing.

"Grace," said he, "you have good eyes; see if you can discover any
thing."