She was standing there, behind him, her eyes upon him.... She was
straight, and slender, and perfectly formed. A single garment covered
her, running across one shoulder, reaching to her knees. It left one
breast exposed, and the white, slender legs and perfect feet. She stood
in a posture of infinite grace--of infinite poise. She looked at him.

Then it was that the shrivelled old woman spoke. She said to the girl:

"_Votre pere_."

And that was all.

The child looked at the man; the man looked at the child; and so for a
long, long time they stood eye upon eye.... At length she began to smile
a little, with her lips. But he did not smile....

After a long, long time, she took a slow, sinuous step toward him--then
another.... He stepped back, still looking at her, his eyes still on
hers.... He was back to the great cliff--the sheer cliff at the base of
which the huge seas ever beat in sullen, unceasing impotence.... Yet,
another step she took, toward him....

His breath came chokingly, gaspingly. Yet another step he took, away from
her.... Yet another.... And then....

It was an accident, perhaps. Yes, of course; it must have been an
accident. He had not noticed.... For, as again she advanced, her eyes on
his, his eyes on hers, again he retreated. And suddenly, in utter silence
save for the rending of crumbling earth and uprooted grass, he slid over
the edge of the great rock.... Before the eyes of the girl lay only the