He was reflecting upon the incident that had caused him such a toilsome détour; though his thoughts were dwelling less upon this than upon the face of one of the two naiads seen playing in the pool.
It was the one of darker complexion.
Her figure, too, was recalled. In that transitory glance he had perceived above the water-line, and continued in the translucency beneath, an outline not easily forgotten. He so well remembered it, as almost to repent the spasm of delicacy that had caused him to retreat behind the rock.
This repentance had something to do with the direction he was now taking.
He had hopes of encountering the bathers as they came up to the summit of the cliff.
Much time, however, had passed. He could see that the beach was deserted—the few dark forms appearing upon it being evidently those solitary creatures of bachelor kind, who become Neptune’s guests only at the second table.
Of course the two mermaids having exchanged their loose aquatic costume for the more constrained dress of the street, had long since gone home to the hotel. This was his conjecture.
A cry came to contradict it; close followed by another, and another!
He ran out to the edge of the cliff and looked downward. He could remember nothing of the landmarks. The tide, now well in, had changed the look of everything below. The ledges were covered—their position only to be told by the surf breaking over them.
Once more came up the cry!