THE LOVE OF MONSIEUR
her waist, his firm hand reassured her own, and his low voice spoke in even accents.
“These are chests of gold and silver, jewels and silks, madame”; and then, “It is here that we keep our priceless captures,” he whispered, smiling. “Sit in comfort. The water-line is above, where you see the beams o’erhead. In a little while I will come again, and all will be well.” He pressed the trembling hand in both his own, and she saw him follow the long figure of Jacquard, who with sympathy and discretion, of which his glum demeanor gave no indication, had left the light hanging to a timber and gone growling above.
Alone with the swaying lantern, the beams and bulkheads, the boxes and chests, she gave herself over to her own turbulent reflections. There was a swish and hollow gurgle at her very ear as the seas alongside washed astern, a creaking and a groaning of the timbers, which made her tremble for the stanchness of the vessel. The boxes and chests resolved themselves into great square patches of light which thrust their staring presence forward ob-
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