he bed in the
little room off the kitchen that belonged to the other; then turned
swiftly to Marie-Louise, for the old fisherman had lost consciousness
again.

"Cognac, Marie-Louise!" he said quickly.

She ran for the brandy--and while Jean forced a few drops through
Gaston's lips, holding up the lantern to watch the other, she went from
the room again and brought back a lamp.

"Jean," she cried pitifully, as she set it upon the table, "he is not--"

Jean shook his head.

"No; he will be better in a minute now. It is but a little fainting
spell."

She did not answer--barefooted, the short skirt just reaching to the
ankles, her black hair, loosened, tumbling about her shoulders in a
sodden mass, she came a little closer to the bed, her hands clasped,
the dark eyes wide with troubled tenderness, the red lips parted, the
white cheeks still glistening with spray; and, unconscious of her pose,
the wet clothes, untrammelled in their simplicity, clinging closely to
her limbs and her young rounded bosom, revealed in chaste freedom the
perfect contour and beauty of her form.

Something stirred Jean's spirit within him, and for a moment he was
oblivious to his surroundings; for, as he looked, she seemed to stand
before him the living counterpart of a wondrous piece of sculpture, in
bronze it was, marvellously conceived, that he had dreamed of again and
again in vague, restless dreams--the statue, for it was always the same
statue in his dreams, that was set in the midst of a great city, in a
great square, and--

"Marie-Louise!" he said aloud unconsciously.

But she shook her head, pointing to the bed.

Gaston had stirred, and, opening his eyes now, fixing them on the glass
still held in Jean's hand, he motioned for more brandy. And Jean, his
moment of abstraction gone as quickly as it had come, bent hastily
forward and gave it to him.

The raw spirit brought a flush to the old fisherman's cheeks.

"Father Anton," he said. "Go for Father Anton."

"_Bien sur!_" responded Jean soothingly. "I will go at once. It was
what I thought of when I was carrying you up the beach. I said: 'Since
there is no doctor in Bernay-sur-Mer, I will get Father Anton, who is
as good a doctor as he is a priest, and he will have Gaston here on his
feet again by morning.'" He moved away from the bed--but Gaston put
out his hand and stopped him.

"Not you, Jean; I want to talk to you--Marie-Louise will go."

"Marie-Louise!" exclaim