"With your permission I will take you on shore myself." "Thank you," said Elsa again, with a deep breath. She held out her hand to him; he took the small delicate hand in his, and again their looks met. "That hand may be trusted," thought Elsa, "and the eyes too!" And aloud she said: "You must not think, however, that I am afraid of remaining here! it is really only on the poor President's account." She withdrew her hand, and hastened away towards her father, who was already surprised at her long absence, and now came in search of her. In the act of following her, Reinhold saw lying at his feet a little pale grey glove. She must have dropped it just now, as she took the telescope. He stooped quickly, picked it up, and put it in his pocket. "She will not have that back again," said he to himself. CHAPTER III. Reinhold was right; there was not a moment to be lost. As the little boat which he steered cut through the foaming waters, the sky was gradually obscured by black clouds which threatened soon to extinguish the last gleam of light in the west. In addition to this the wind, which was blowing violently, veered suddenly round from south to north, and it became necessary, in order to enable the boat to return more quickly to the ship, to land at a different place from that where the large boat, which they already saw on its way back, had discharged its passengers. This had been at the fishing village of Ahlbeck, in the centre of the bay, immediately under Wissow Head. They were obliged to keep close to the wind, and more to the north, where there was hardly space for a single hut, far less for a fishing village, on the narrow beach under the bare dunes; and Reinhold might think himself fortunate in being just able to bring the boat round by a bold manœuvre so near to the shore, that the landing of the travellers with the few articles of luggage which they had brought from the ship could be effected without much difficulty. "I am afraid we have only fallen from the frying-pan into the fire," said the President in a melancholy tone. "It is a comfort to me that it is not our fault," answered the General, not without some sharpness in his deep voice. "Oh! certainly not, most surely not!" admitted the President; "_mea maxima culpa!_ my own fault entirely, Fräulein von Werben. But you must confess that our situation is deplorable, really miserably deplorable!" "I don't know," answered Elsa; "I think it is quite beautiful here." "I congratulate you with all my heart," said the President; "but for my part I should prefer a fire, a wing of chicken, and half a bottle of St. Julien; but if it is a consolation only to have companions in misfortune, it is a double one to know that what to the sober experience of the one is a very real misfortune, appears to the youthful fancy of the other as a romantic adventure."