CHAPTER XXXIX
ALL ADRIFT
The Marquise scarcely heard him. She was intent on those
two figures scrambling up the opposite shore, and fast disappearing
into the darkness beyond. It seemed that the
darkness was closing in around herself, never again to be
dispelled. When those were gone what was there left on
earth for her? She had lost Cerise, she told herself, the
treasure she had guarded so carefully; the darling for whom
she would have sacrificed her life a thousand times, as the
events of the last few hours proved; the one aim and object
of her whole existence, without which she was alone in the
world. And now this man had come and taken her child away,
and it would never be the same thing again. Cerise loved
him, she was sure of that. Ah! they could not deceive her;
and he loved Cerise. She knew it by his voice in those
few words when he suggested that the girl should cross the
water first. The Marquise twined her fingers together, as
if she were in pain.
They must be safe now. Walking side by side on the peaceful beach, waiting for the boat that should bear them away, would they forget all about her in the selfishness of their new-found happiness, and leave her to perish here? She wished they would. She wished the rioters, coming on in overwhelming numbers, might force the pass and drive these honest blue-jackets in before them to make a last desperate stand at the water's edge. She could welcome death then, offering herself willingly to ensure the safety of those two.
And what was this man to her that she should give him
