But the Prince did not enter the church; he came and stood with one hand resting on the long fishing-boat, his eyes fixed on the sea.
The early sunlight had already faded.
A pale mist blew off the water and hurried across the land; the great expanse was bounded by the curtain of vapour and the little village blotted out of sight.
Shore and ocean were grey together, divided only by the white, breaking line of the surf murmuring on the beach.
Vague and endless the sand dunes stretched against the sky pierced with the straight clusters of reeds, dry and gaunt.
The large, white sea-birds flew out of the curling fog and settled along the wet line of shining sand the retreating foam left bare.
The fisherman turned a heavy gaze on the motionless figure of the stranger.
“You are new to the Hague?”
“No, I have lived there all my life.”