As he drew near to the beach he called upon Barbara by name, but received no answer. This was puzzling, inasmuch as he was near the place where he had left her. Near? He was at the exact spot. There was the crag upon which she had been seated a few minutes previously, but of Barbara herself not a trace was visible.
Vainly did his eyes seek to pierce the veil of mist that hung around; every object more than a few feet distant was hidden from view.
The melancholy lapping of the waves over the sand was the only sound that broke the stillness.
Where was Barbara? Ah! alarmed perhaps by the mist and by his long absence, she had left the shore to seek him, and had missed her way to the ruin. He would go back at once and find her.
He had just turned to retrace his steps, when suddenly from out the mist that overhung the sea there came a strange voice,—
"All ready? Give way, then. To Castel Nuovo!"
The words were immediately followed by the dip and roll of oars,—sounds that sent a thrill of horror through Paul's heart. In one swift moment he realized what was happening.
The Austrian gendarmerie sent by the convent authorities had come at last! Come? ay, and were going with their purpose accomplished!
Barbara, silent, perhaps because in a swoon, was in the hands of enemies who were carrying her off, and though her captors were but a few yards distant, he was unable to render her any aid. The suddenness, the stillness, the mysteriousness of it all was more appalling than the act of abduction itself.
Half-an-hour had not yet elapsed since Barbara had pressed her glowing lips to his. And now—and now—was ever lover's dream cut short so awfully and abruptly as this?