r storm, it pounds and pounds--as a thing chained--without
relief of advance or of recession, always at the same level, always in
the same place.

Suspicion of this cheerless truth was borne in upon Carteret
as--bare-headed, his overcoat upon his arm, the night being singularly
mild and clement--he walked with Damaris through the streets of the
silent town. The dwellers in St. Augustin, both virtuous or otherwise,
had very effectually retired to their beds behind drawn curtains, closed
shutters, locked doors, and gave no sign. Vacancy reigned, bringing in
its train an effect of suspense and eeriness, causing both our friends
involuntarily to listen, with slightly strained hearing, for sounds which
did not come. Once a cat, nimble and thin, streaked out of a cavernous
side-alley across the pallor of the pavement and cobbled roadway, to be
swallowed up in a black split--knife narrow, as it seemed--between the
blank house fronts opposite. And once, as they turned into the open space
of the Grand Place--unreal and stark with its spidery framework of
stalls, set up ready for to-morrow's market, under the budding plane
trees--they encountered a tired gendarme making his round, picturesque of
aspect in _kepi_ and flowing cloak. His footsteps brisked up, as he met
and treated them to a discreetly sympathetic and intelligent
observation, only to lag again wearily as soon as they had passed.

These were the sole creatures in St. Augustin, save themselves, visibly
alive and awake. Yet whether other beings, other presences, unmaterial,
imponderable, intangible, did not walk the streets along with them, is
open to doubt. More than once Damaris shrank close to Carteret, startled
by and apprehensive of she knew not what. For who dare say in such a
place what leavings-over there may not be from times pre-Christian and
remote, when mighty Rome ruled, and the ancient gods bore sway over that
radiant coast? On the outskirts of St. Augustin you may visit a fine
amphitheatre, still perfect save for some ruin along the upper tier of
seats; and in the centre of the town, within a stone's throw of the
somewhat gloomy cathedral church, may trace the airy columns and portions
of the sculptured architrave of a reputed temple of Venus, worked into
the facade of the municipal buildings.

Turning out of the Grande Place by an avenue on the right, Damaris and
Carteret gained the esplanade following the curve of the bay. Here a
freshness of the sea