"He did not notice the start I gave when my eyes fell upon the sketch. It was that of a young girl, with most wonderful black hair which hung loosely down. She was standing on the upper gallery of a lighthouse, and the silver spray of wild waves was dashing upon the stone edifice. Her left hand was arched above her brows, and a scarlet kerchief was wound gracefully round her lovely head. "I examined it in silence. The likeness to the description given by Silvain was unmistakable, and it was only by an effort of self-restraint that I prevented myself from disclosing that the figure was familiar to me. The right was not mine; the secret was not mine. A confidence had been reposed in me by Silvain, and, if he and Kristel had not spoken to each other of the girl, it was not for me to betray my knowledge of her. "'A fancy sketch?' I asked. "'No,' replied Kristel, 'from the life. Is she not beautiful?' "'Very beautiful,' I said, with a sinking heart. "I have spoken of the physical dissimilarity of Kristel and Silvain; but although, from the evidence of sight, a stranger would not have taken them for brothers, he could not have doubted of the close kinship, had he depended for his judgment upon his sense of hearing. Their voices were as one voice, In tone and inflection, so that, closing one's eyes, one could not with absolute certainty decide whether Kristel or Silvain were speaking. It was this that caused my heart to sink when Kristel asked me if the girl was not beautiful. In exactly the same tone had Silvain spoken of her, with fervid warmth and enthusiasm. My vague fears--which at that moment I should have felt a difficulty in explaining--were not dispelled by the action of Kristel, immediately following my reply. Silvain's footsteps were heard without, and Kristel, swiftly and hurriedly, took the sketch from my hand, and placed it in his desk, which he closed and locked. "Silvain brought grave news to the hut. His head drooped, his features were suffused with sadness. "'Kristel,' he said, in a tone of melancholy significance. "'Silvain,' said Kristel, in a tone of indifference. The sorrowful note in his brother's voice had not reached his heart. He was thinking of the beautiful girl, with the wild waves dashing up to her feet. "'Our father'--faltered Silvain, and stopped, unable to proceed. "Even this did not arouse Kristel. He was lying now with his head on the pillow, and his hands, the fingers of which were interlaced, clasped behind it. Silvain came close to his brother's side, gently disengaged the clasped hands, and held one within his own. Kristel was awakened to reality by this action; and I, who had guessed the truth, stole softly from the room.