Could it have been the shadow that I recognized through the roses the evening before? The tide came up very early that evening, and necessitated the departure of all the fishermen before night came on. Pierre Prévost was one of the first to start, but he went a long way round to get to the sea-shore, and passed before the windows of the rose-covered cottage. A flower fell at his feet. He picked it up eagerly, and kissing it passionately, thrust it into his bosom and hastened away. As the evening wore on, and while the little boats were just fading away in the distance, I watched again, and distinctly saw a white handkerchief waving from the window of the pretty cottage. I was naturally anxious to find out about this little romance, and was continually puzzling my poor brains to discover the truth of the story. There were hundreds of people I might have asked, and, of course, Alphonsine would have been only too happy to have enlightened me. But I determined, if possible, to hear it all from Pierre's own lips, and accordingly made up my mind to stifle my idle curiosity. {114} CHAPTER III. Pierre and I soon became firm friends, and I persuaded him on one occasion to take me on one of his fishing expeditions. It was a lovely night, the heavens were ablaze with stars, and the little boat tossed idly on the waves which scarcely rippled against its keel. Pierre's companions were asleep down in the cabin, waiting for a breeze to spring up before they could throw in their nets. As for myself, I was smoking quietly on deck, having my back against a coil of rope, and revelling in the delicious quiet which reigned around, when Pierre joined me, and having lighted his pipe, sat down by my side, and spoke, as far as I can remember, as follows: I believe, monsieur, you are anxious to know why I am such a sad looking fellow? Perhaps you will laugh at me, but that can't be helped. I am sure you are sincere, and wish me well, and therefore I have no hesitation in opening my heart to you.