“How if we two went out together, David, thou and I? Think you the world might hold a place for us? I would be a good comrade, I promise thee. I would march stoutly at thy side, nor complain when weariness overcame me. We should not have always to beg for food, for I have a little bag—” “See, Alixe, look! There below, on the sand, by that sharp-pointed stone,—there is a gray-white crab. He must be hurt. See how he fumbles and struggles, without avail, to reach the little pool ten inches from him. Watch him; he makes no progress. Now that were thou and I, thrown upon the world. Oh, this place is full of omens! I have found them here before. ’Tis the witchery of the cave.” Alixe failed to smile. This last augury, though it confirmed the one that she herself had made, did not please her. She sat silent on the ledge, her feet hanging, her elbows on her knees, her head on her hand, watching intently all the little dramas taking place below her among the sea-creatures. Nor was David in a mood to make conversation. So the two of them sat silent for a long time—how long a time neither of them knew. The water was growing more brightly golden under the beams of the fast-descending sun, and Alixe noted the fact, but held her peace. It was David who, after a little while, suddenly exclaimed,— “Diable, Alixe! See how the tide hath risen! We shall be wet enough getting out and back to the upper cliff. Come quickly!” As he spoke, he slid from the ledge, landing in water that was up to his ankles. “Quickly, Alixe! I will steady thee. Come, thou’lt but be the wetter if thou stayest.” Alixe sat motionless upon the ledge above, and looked calmly down upon the dwarf. “Reflect, David, how easy it were not to wet my ankles thus. How easy ’twould be just to sit here—until the stone should drop for the last time into the hand of God.” David stood looking up at her, wide-eyed. The idea was slow to pierce his brain. “Why, yes,” said he, “’twere easy enow, easy enow. Yet when I go, ’t must be from mine own room, and by a clean dagger-stroke. I care not to choke myself to death in a goblin’s cave. Come, Alixe, the water riseth.” “Go thou on, David. I can come down when I will; for I have traversed the way often.” “Come down!” “Nay, David.” “Come down.” “Nay.” The water was deeper by four inches than it had been when he first reached the bottom of the cave. The dwarf looked up at the girl, who sat smiling at him, and his face reddened slightly. Then, without more ado, he climbed back upon the ledge, and sat down beside Alixe, hanging his dripping feet toward the water, which now covered the tallest of the stones on the floor of the cave. “David, thou must go. Climb down, and save thyself quickly. Thy slender body cannot much longer breast the tide.” David crossed his knees and clasped his hands around them. “If thou stayest, I also will remain.” “I beg of thee, go, ere it is too late!” “Not without thee.” “In the name of God I ask it.”