She smiled, and, enlightened, he perceived with interest, curiosity, and amused resignation, the clearer grouping of the affairs of his youthful years. Fantasy to youth! Sobriety to middle-age! Carried away, he said to her,-- 'Eve! I want adventure, Eve!' Her eyes lit up in instant response, but he could not read her inward thought, that the major part of his adventure should be, not Aphros, but herself. He noted, however, her lighted eyes, and leaned over to her. 'You are a born adventurer, Eve, also.' She remained silent, but her eyes continued to dwell on him, and to herself she was thinking, always sardonic although the matter was of such perennial, such all-eclipsing importance to her,-- 'A la bonne heure, he realises my existence.' 'What a pity you are not a boy; we could have seen the adventure of the Islands through together.' ('The Islands always!' she thought ruefully.) 'I should like to cross to Aphros to-night,' he murmured, with absent eyes.... ('Gone again,' she thought. 'I held him for a moment.') When they reached the house no servants were visible, but in reply to the bell a young servant appeared, scared, white-faced, and, as rapidly disappearing, was replaced by the old major-domo. He burst open the door into the passage, a crowd of words pressing on each other's heels in his mouth; he had expected Julian alone; when he saw Eve, who was idly turning over the letters that awaited her, he clapped his hand tightly over his lips, and stood, struggling with his speech, balancing himself in his arrested impetus on his toes. 'Well, Nicolas?' said Julian. The major-domo exploded, removing his hand from his mouth,-- 'Kyrie! a word alone....' and as abruptly replaced the constraining fingers. Julian followed him through the swing door into the servants' quarters, where the torrent broke loose. 'Kyrie, a disaster! I have sent men with a stretcher. I remained in the house myself looking for your return. Father Paul--yes, yes, it is he--drowned--yes, drowned--at the bottom of the garden. Come, Kyrie, for the love of God. Give directions. I am too old a man. God be praised, you have come. Only hasten. The men are there already with lanterns.' He was clinging helplessly to Julian's wrist, and kept moving his fingers up and down Julian's arm, twitching fingers that sought reassurance from firmer muscles, in a distracted way, while his eyes beseechingly explored Julian's face. Julian, shocked, jarred, incredulous, shook off the feeble fingers in irritation. The thing was an outrage on the excitement of the day. The transition to tragedy was so violent that he wished, in revolt, to disbelieve it. 'You must be mistaken, Nicolas!' 'Kyrie, I am not mistaken. The body is lying on the shore. You can see it there. I have sent lanterns and a stretcher. I beg of you to come.'