At length, about an hour before dawn on the second day—Sunday—having spent the early part of the night in watching at the gates of the robbers' sanctuary, and being almost exhausted from want of rest, she set out homewards. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. Wood could not avoid making a slight shuffling sound. He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre. " And, with a few magical touches, he stamped the fleeting expression on the canvass.
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