“Does this road go to the place where one finds the ships?” asked Julie.
“Oui, mademoiselle.”
When Julie is rested, she rises and walks on. Still on and on. The way is long. At last the houses are thick together. Beyond is the blue sea. There are the ships, many, with white sails.
“Which one goes to America?” asks Julie of a man lounging about the wharf.
He points to one from which floats a beautiful flag.
While she looks, the great flag comes fluttering, fluttering down—fluttering, floating before her, floating about her, wrapping her in its folds; then back it flies, whizzing through the air, up, up, up, among the tall masts, so high above the water! Julie is dizzy, and tries to catch at the ropes. Lo! her hands are pinioned. She cannot move them. A huge serpent is coiled about her—a huge serpent striped its whole length with red and white. The coils are tightening, tightening. She cannot breathe. She struggles to be free. A flaming head swoops suddenly down. Two terrible eyes glare at her—two eyes—two glittering stars.
[2] Good-morning (or good-day), my friend.
[3] I am afraid.
[4] Oh, give it to me! give it to me.