her by saying that she talked French even better than he talked
English, which, while doubtless true, was not the most tactful thing De
Plonville might have said. It was difficult to listen to such a
statement given in his English, and refrain from laughing. Margaret,
however, scored a great victory and did not laugh. The evening passed
pleasantly, she thought; delightfully, De Plonville thought.

It was hard after this to come down to the prosaic work of completing a
cloth canoe-tent, but, to De Plonville's credit, he persevered. He met
the young lady on several occasions, but never by the coast. The better
they became acquainted the more he wished to have the privilege of
rescuing her from some deadly danger; but the opportunity did not come.
It seldom does, except in books, as he bitterly remarked to himself.
The sea was exasperatingly calm, and Miss Margaret was mistress of her
craft, as so many charming women are. He thought of buying a telescope
and watching her, for she had told him that one of her own delights was
looking at the evolutions of the ironclads through a telescope on the
terrace in front of the Chateau.

At last, in spite of his distractions, De Plonville added the finishing
touches to his notable invention, and all that remained was to put it
to a practical test. He chose a day when that portion of the French
navy which frequents the Rade d'Hyères was not in sight, for he did not
wish to come within the field of the telescope at the Chateau terrace.
He felt that he would not look his best as he paddled his new-fangled
boat. Besides, it might sink with him.

There was not a sail in sight as he put forth. Even the fishing boats
of Carqueyranne were in shelter. The sea was very calm, and the sun
shone brightly. He had some little difficulty in getting seated, but he