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24 THE CONFESSION OF A FOOL
boats were setting sail to bring in the outspread nets ; the
sea-gulls, scenting the small herring underneath the dark
green waves, were screaming themselves hoarse. But on
the steamer absolute silence reigned. The travellers were
still fast asleep in their cabins, we alone were on deck.
The captain, heavy with sleep, was watching us from the
bridge, wondering, no doubt, what we could be talking
about.
At three o’clock in the morning the pilot cutter ap-
peared from behind a neck of land, and parting was
imminent.
Only a few of the larger islands now separated us from
the open sea ; the swell of the ocean was already distinctly
discernible ; we could hear the roar of the huge breakers
on the steep cliffs at the extreme end of the land.
The time to say good-bye had arrived. They kissed
one another, he and she, full of painful agitation. She
took my hand in hers and pressed it passionately, her
eyes full of tears ; she begged her husband to take care
of me, and implored me to comfort him during her
absence.
I bowed, I kissed her hand without a thought of the
proprieties, oblivious of the fact that I was betraying
my secret.
The engines stopped, the steamer slowed down, the
pilot took up his position between decks. Two steps
towards the accommodation ladder—I descended, and
found myself at the side of the Baron in the pilot cutter.
The steamer towered above our heads. Leaning
against the rail, the Baroness looked down upon us with
a sad smile, her innocent eyes brimming over with tears.
The propeller slowly began to move, the giant got under
way again, her Russian flag fluttering in the breeze. We
were tossing on the rolling waves, waving our handker-
chiefs. The little face grew smaller and smaller, the
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