What was it came to me at that moment? What inexplicable intuition of danger? I had left her with a feeling of my utter helplessness, when, with my hand on the door, I stopped, looking out into the dark void, where sea and sky had disappeared and but a single step led into Infinity.
But a single step and such an easy step! Suddenly I turned, went to her directly, and said:
“Mademoiselle—pardon, Mademoiselle; you must not—vous ne pouvez rester ici.”
The emotion in my voice startled her. Her head turned hastily; she swayed and leaned heavily on the rail. I felt the stiffening of her body against the impertinence of my intrusion, and all my assurance fled.
“Monsieur, I do not think I understood you.”
She answered me slowly, in excellent English, with only the slightest accent.
“I beg your pardon, humbly. Please don’t think I mean to be impertinent,” I stammered back, “but I don’t think it is good for you to stay up here—all alone.”
I felt how ridiculous this must have sounded, and broke off lamely.
“By what right?”
“No right, Mademoiselle; just a human impulse, that’s all—just the feeling that you are in great sorrow and that you shouldn’t be left alone,—not here, at least. I feel it very strongly, Mademoiselle.”