"Shall I go with you?" asked Sanine gently.

"No. I'd rather go alone," she replied.

Sanine lifted her out of the boat. It was a joy to him to do this, for
he felt that he loved her, and was grateful to her. As he put her down
on the shore after embracing her fondly, she stumbled.

"Oh! you beauty!" exclaimed Sanine, in a voice full of passion and
tenderness and pity.

She smiled in unconscious pride. Sanine took hold of her hands, and
drew her to him.

"Kiss me!"

"It doesn't matter; nothing matters now," she thought, as she gave him
a long, passionate kiss on his lips.

"Good-bye," she murmured, scarcely knowing what she said.

"Don't be angry with me, darling," pleaded Sanine.

As she crossed the dyke, staggering as she went, and tripping over her
dress, Sanine watched her with sorrowful eyes. It grieved him to think
of all the needless suffering that was in store for her and which, as
he foresaw, she had not the strength to set aside.

Slowly her figure moved forward to meet the dawn, and it soon vanished
in the white mist.

When he could no longer see her, Sanine leapt into the boat, and by a
few powerful strokes lashed the water to foam In mid-stream, as the
dense morning mists rose round him, Sanine dropped the oars, stood
erect in the boat and uttered a great shout of joy. And the woods and
the mists, as if alive, responded to his cry.