she glides over the surface of water calling to the shepherds of
the mountains, showing them, of course, nothing more than her
head with its long locks and her beautiful bare shoulders and
arms. The fools, caught by this semblance of a woman, draw nearer,
beckoning to her to come to them, while she on her side signs
to them to go to her. The unwary spirits advance unwittingly,
giving no heed to their steps. Suddenly the earth fails them, the
fairy reaches out her arms, and plunges down into her dripping
palaces, to reappear the next day alone. Where the devil did
these idiots of shepherds get the tale that Virgil related in
such noble verse to Augustus and Mecaenas?"

He remained pensive an instant, his eyes bent upon the azure depths,
then turning to Sir John:

"They say that, no matter how vigorous the swimmer, none has
ever returned from this abyss. Perhaps were I to try it, my lord,
it might be surer than M. de Barjols' bullet. However, it always
remains as a last resort; in the meantime let us try the bullet.
Come, my lord, come."

Then turning to the Englishman, who listened, amazed by this
mobility of mind, he led him back to the others who awaited them.
They in the meantime had found a suitable place.

It was a little plateau, perched as it were on a rocky proclivity,
jutting from the mountain side, exposed to the setting sun, on
which stood a ruined castle where the shepherds were wont to
seek shelter when the mistral overtook them. A flat space, some
hundred and fifty feet long, and sixty wide, which might once