terraces enjoy a more extensive view of the sea
as they rise higher, higher; and, seen from the topmost terrace, the sea
lies against the beach, to right and left, in one great, strangely
mobile expanse, a living element. Across the sea the south-winds blow
upon the castle; the pine-woods shelter it to some extent from the
northernly gales.

From the tallest tower an imposing standard flaps gaily in the air: two
yellow stripes and a white stripe between, with the dark patch of the
crenellated fortress which forms the arms of Gothland. It floats there
on the sunless morning like a smile in the sky; it swells and falls limp
again and then again lets itself be blown high up by the wind, which
comes swinging lustily over the water.

A young man and a girl are walking on the beach; they talk, smile, look
at each other. She is taller than he, with a very fair complexion; under
her little sailor-hat a few of her auburn tresses, tangled by the wind,
blow across her face; she keeps on smoothing them away. She wears a
simple blue serge skirt and a white blouse, with a broad leather belt
around her waist. Her dainty little feet, in their black-silk stockings
and yellow-leather shoes, are constantly uncovered by the wind. She
carelessly swings a pair of gloves in her hand.

The young man wears a light check summer suit and a straw hat. He is
short and slender; his black eyes have a look of gentle melancholy. He
appears to be telling the girl by his side a tale of travel; she
listens, with her smile.

Round about them, in spite of the wind, the atmosphere is full of peace.
Walking along the beach, they go by the castle, pass round behind it and
look up. From one of the windows somebody gaily waves a hand and calls
out something. They try to hear, with their hands to their ears, but
they shrug their shoulders: the wind has blown the words away. They wave
their hands again and walk on.

They do not go far, however, always along the beach. Yonder lies the
fishing-village, lie a couple of small villas, almost cottages. One of
them seems just to have been taken by a large family, for the
holiday-month no doubt; a hum of voices issues from it, children chase
one another along the beach; a tiny girl, in running, bumps against the
young man.

"Hullo there!" he says, pleasantly, with a laugh.

Laughing they walk on.

The children run along. A fisherman comes with his nets, grins cheerily
and mutters a greeting. A fat lady in the v