"Thank God!" she thought; "the artist is awake at last!" In truth, since his illness, Laurent had not given a thought to his art. As there was nothing of interest in the quarry, after they had looked at the great blocks of beautiful black marble, veined with golden yellow, Laurent proposed to ascend the slope and look out to sea from the highest point; and he went on through an almost impassable growth of pines, to a sort of fringe of lichens, where he seemed suddenly to be lost in space. The rock on which he stood overhung the sea, which had eaten into its base, and broke against it with a terrific noise. Laurent, who had no idea that side of the island was so steep, was seized with such a fit of giddiness that, but for Thérèse, who had followed him and forced him back upon the ground, he would have fallen into the sea. At that moment, she saw that he was as terror-stricken and wild-eyed as on that night long before in the forest of ----. "What is the matter?" she asked. "Is this another dream?" "No! no!" he cried, rising, and clinging to her as if he thought that he had grasped an immovable rock of refuge; "this is no dream, it is reality! It is the sea, the horrible sea, which is to carry me off in a few moments! it is the image of the life to which I am returning! it is the impassable abyss that will soon be between us! it is that monotonous, untiring, hateful noise which I used to go to listen to at night in the roadstead of Genoa, and which roared blasphemies in my ears! it is that brutal ocean swell which I seemed to be trying to overcome in a boat, and which bore me resistlessly toward a deeper and more implacable abyss than that of the waves! Thérèse, Thérèse, do you know what you are doing when you toss me to that monster who is waiting yonder, his hideous jaws already open to devour your poor child?" "Laurent," she said, shaking him by the arm, "Laurent, do you hear me?" He seemed to wake in another world when he recognized Thérèse's voice; for when he appealed to her he thought that he was alone, and he turned with surprise when he saw that the tree to which he was clinging was nothing else than his friend's trembling, tired arm. "Forgive me, forgive me," he said, "it is a last attack, it is nothing. Let us go!" And he hurriedly descended the slope which he had ascended with her. The _Ferruccio_ was coming at full speed from Spezzia. "_Mon Dieu_! there she is!" he said. "How fast she comes! if only she might sink before she gets here!" "Laurent!" exclaimed Thérèse, sternly.