"What have they come here for? There are two of them. What is
there for them to do here in our poor land, where we have nothing but
stones and the sea?"

"They drink gin. The sailor comes every morning for gin."

"They are simply drunkards who don't want anybody to disturb their
drinking. When the sailor passes along the street he leaves behind
him an odour as of an open bottle of rum."

"But is that their business--drinking gin? I fear them. Where is
the ship that brought them here? They came from the sea."

"I saw the ship," says Mariet.

The women begin to question her in amazement.

"You? Why, then, didn't you say anything about it? Tell us what
you know."

Mariet maintains silence. Suddenly one of the women exclaims:

"Ah, look! They have lit a lamp. There is a light in the castle!"

On the left, about half a mile away from the village, a faint light
flares up, a red little coal in the dark blue of the twilight and the
distance. There upon a high rock, overhanging the sea, stands an
ancient castle, a grim heritage of grey and mysterious antiquity.
Long destroyed, long ruined, it blends with the rocks, continuing and
delusively ending them by the broken, dented line of its batteries,