The sun, which, had been shining intermittently, flooded the serried shipping with a burst of golden light, that coaxed the turbid waves to brightness, and cheered the wan emigrants, and made little children leap joyously in their mothers' arms. The knell of parting sounded insistent.
"Your allegory seems turning in your favor, Raphael," said Esther, with a sudden memory.
The pensive smile that made her face beautiful lit up the dark eyes.
"What allegory is that of Raphael's?" said Strelitski, reflecting her smile on his graver visage. "The long one in his prize poem?"
"No," said Raphael, catching the contagious smile. "It is our little secret."
Strelitski turned suddenly to look at the emigrants. The smile faded from his quivering mouth.
The last moment had come. Raphael stooped down towards the gentle softly-flushing face, which was raised unhesitatingly to meet his, and their lips met in a first kiss, diviner than it is given most mortals to know—a kiss, sad and sweet, troth and parting in one: Ave et vale—hail and farewell."
"Good-bye, Strelitski," said Raphael huskily. "Success to your dreams."
The idealist turned round with a start. His face was bright and resolute; the black curl streamed buoyantly on the breeze.
"Good-bye," he responded, with a giant's grip of the hand. "Success to your hopes."