They waded in together, hand in hand, until they were waist deep. Then they struck out, making for the open sea. The sting of the night had already passed from the water. To their young blood it felt warm. They swam near together, Ottilie using a steady breast stroke and Somerset a side stroke, so that he could look at her flushed and glistening face. From the blue of the sea and the blue of the sky and the light blue of the silk foulard, the blue of her eyes grew magically deep. “There seems to be nothing but you and I in God’s universe, Ottilie,” said he. She smiled at him. He drew quite close to her. “If we could only go on straight until we found an enchanted island which we could have as our kingdom!” “The sea must be our kingdom,” said Ottilie. “Or its depths. Shall we dive down and look for the ‘ceiling of amber, the pavement of pearl,’ and the ‘red gold throne in the heart of the sea’ for the two of us?” “We should be happier than in the world,” replied the little princess. They swam on slowly, dreamily, in silence. The mild waves lapped against their ears and their mouths. The morning sun lay at their backs and its radiance fell athwart the bay. Through the stillness came the faint echo of a fisherman on the far beach hammering at his boat. Beyond that and the gentle swirl of the water there was no sound. After a while they altered their course so as to reach a small boat that lay at anchor for the convenience of the stronger swimmers. They clambered up and sat on the gunwale, their feet dangling in the sea. “Is my princess tired?” he asked. She laughed in merry scorn. “Tired? Why, I could swim twenty times as far. Do you think I have no muscle? Feel. Don’t you know I fence all the winter?” She braced her bare arm. He felt the muscle; then relaxing it by drawing down her wrist, he kissed it very gently. “Soft and strong--like yourself,” said he. Ottilie said nothing, but looked at her white feet through the transparent water. She thought that in letting him kiss her arm, and feeling as though he had kissed right through to her heart, she was exhibiting a pitiful lack of strength. Somerset looked at her askance, uncertain. For nothing in the world would he have offended. “Did you mind?” he whispered. She shook her head and continued to look at her feet. Somerset felt a great happiness pulse through him. “If I gave you up,” said he, “I should be the poorest-spirited dog that ever whined.” “Hush!” she said, putting her hand in his. “Let us think only of the present happiness.” They sat silent for a moment, contemplating the little red-roofed town of Illerville-sur-Mer, which nestled in greenery beyond the white sweep of the beach, and the rococo hotels and the Casino, whose cupolas flashed gaudily in the morning sun. From the northeastern end of the bay stretched a long line of sheer white cliff as far as the eye could reach. Toward the west it was bounded by a narrow headland running far out to sea.