Their lips met. He enjoyed the intoxication of a kiss in which there was all the ardor of life and the terrible pleasure of death. Darkness seemed to envelop them more quickly, now that they abandoned themselves to the delicious torpor of the embrace. The water was rising. It was a passing weakness; and Ralph tore himself out of it violently. The thought that this charming creature, whom he had saved so many times, was about to endure the terrible torture of the water that forces its way into you and smothers you and kills you, shook him with horror. “No, no!” he cried. “This shall not be! Death for you? No! I will find a way to prevent such a monstrous thing!” She wished to hold him back. She grasped his wrists and implored him in lamentable accents: “I implore you! I implore you! What are you going to do?” “Save you! and save myself!” “It is too late.” “Too late? But the night has come! I no longer see your dear eyes; I no longer see your lips. Why should I not act?” “But in what way?” “How do I know! The essential thing is to act! Moreover I do know certain facts. There must necessarily be means of neutralizing, at a given moment, the action of the closed flood-gates. There must be sluices which let the water flow swiftly away. I must find them!” Aurelie did not listen to him. She groaned: “I implore you not to leave me alone in this dreadful darkness! I’m afraid, Ralph.” “No: since you are not afraid to die, you’re not afraid to live—to live two hours. Not more. The water cannot reach you for two hours. And I shall be here—I swear to you, Aurelie, that I shall be here, whatever happens, to tell you that you are saved—or to die with you!” Little by little, pitilessly, he freed himself from her desperate arms. Then he bent over her and said passionately: “Trust me, my beloved. You know that I have never failed in my efforts. The moment I have succeeded, I will let you know by a signal—I’ll whistle twice. But even when you feel the water chilling you, believe blindly in me!” Nerveless, she fell back. “Go,” she said. “Go since you wish to.” “And you will not be frightened?” “No: since you do not wish it.” He took off his coat and waistcoat and shoes, glanced at the illuminated figures of his watch, fastened it round his neck, and slipped out of the hammock. Outside, darkness. He had no weapon, no clue. It was eight o’clock. CHAPTER XIII IN THE DARKNESS