“We do not either of us look quite well, dear; but n’importe—the fault will be laid upon the sea! On land, all our feminine troubles, for which we do not wish to account, we explain by a headache. At sea, all grievances of soul or body may be put down to sea-sickness. Is a woman pale from vexation or disappointment? She is only sea-sick. Is a man unable to leave his berth in the morning, from having had too much champagne over night? He is very sea-sick, poor wretch! Come! let us go into the saloon.”
There were very few people at the tables, and so Madame Von Bruyin and her companion had a large share of attention from the stewards. Yet they could receive but little benefit from the sumptuous fare laid before them, and they soon left the table for the upper deck, where they sat late into the June night, watching the clear, starlit heavens above and the boundless expanse of ocean below.
At eleven they retired to their berths.
And so ended the first day at sea.
CHAPTER XIV
LILITH’S METAMORPHOSIS
The run of the Kaiser Wilhelm was an almost ideal voyage. After the first few hours, winds and waves subsided.
On Sunday morning the voyagers arose to find themselves borne steadily onward over a summer sea, under a sunny sky, freshened by a gentle breeze.
As this day was, so were all the succeeding days of the voyage.
Only twice it rained, and then only in the night, so that all the mornings were clear and fair.
Lilith was young, fresh and sensitive and so, notwithstanding all her past griefs, disappointments and humiliations, she enjoyed the voyage.