of eye, so light of foot, so sweet a face--if one could but be always
young! When her grandmother, my wife, my Julie, when she was young--ah,
she was fair, fairer than Guida, but not so tall--not quite so tall.
Ah! . . . "

He was slipping away into sleep when he realised that Guida was singing

"Spin, spin, belle Mergaton!
The moon wheels full, and the tide flows high,
And your wedding-gown you must put it on
Ere the night hath no moon in the sky--
Gigoton Mergaton, spin!"

"I had never thought she was so much a woman," he said drowsily; "I--
I wonder why--I never noticed it."

He roused himself again, brushed imaginary snuff from his coat, keeping
time with his foot to the wheel as it went round. "I--I suppose she will
wed soon. . . . I had forgotten. But she must marry well, she must
marry well--she is the godchild of the Duc de Mauban. How the wheel goes
round! I used to hear--her mother--sing that song, 'Gigoton, Mergaton
spin-spin-spin.'" He was asleep.

Guida put by the wheel, and left the house. Passing through the Rue des
Sablons, she came to the shore. It was high tide. This was the time
that Philip's ship was to go. She had dressed herself with as much care
as to what might please his eye as though she were going to meet him in
person. Not without reason, for, though she could not see him from the
land, she knew he could see her plainly through his telescope, if he
chose.