"Where is Phine?" asked the mother; but though her voice was lower now, Michel heard every syllable loudly. It seemed as if he could have heard a whisper, though the chattering in the gateway was like the clamour of a fair. The eldest girl in the little band spoke in a hurried and frightened tone.
"Phine is so naughty, madame," she said, "we could not keep her near us. She would go on and on to the sea. We could not wait for her. We heard her calling, but it was so far, we dared not go back. But she cannot be far behind us, for we shouted as we came along. She will be here soon, madame."
"/Mon Dieu!/" cried the mother, sinking down on one of the great stones, either rolled up by the tide, or left by the masons who built the ramparts. "Call her father to me." It was Michel Lorio who found Nicolas, his greatest enemy. Nicolas had a number of errands to be done in the town, and he was busy impressing them on the memory of his messenger, who, like every one else, could neither read nor write. When Michel caught his arm in a sharp, fast grip, he turned round with a scowl, and tried, but in vain, to shake off his grasp.
"Come to thy wife," said Michel, dragging him toward the gate;"Delphine, thy little one, is lost on the sands." The whole crowd heard the words, for Michel's voice was pitched in a high, shrill key, which rang above the clamour and the babel. There was an instant hush, every one listening to Michel, and every eye fastened upon him. Nicolas stared blankly at him, as if unable to understand him, yet growing passive under his sense of bewilderment.
"The children who went out with Delphine this morning are come back," continued Michel, in the same forced tone; "they are come back without her. She is lost on the sands. The night is falling, and there is a fog. I tell you the little one is alone, quite alone, upon the sands; and it will be high water at six o'clock. Delphine is alone and lost upon the sands!" The momentary hush of the crowd was at an end. The children began crying, and the women calling loudly upon St. Michel and the Holy Virgin. The men gathered about Nicolas and Michel, and went down in a compact group to the causeway beyond the gate. There the lurid sun, shining dimly through the fog, made the most sanguine look grave and shake their heads hopelessly behind the father and mother. The latter sat motionless, looking out with straining eyes to see if Delphine were not coming through the thickening mist.
"/Mais que faire! que faire!/" cried Nicolas, catching at somebody's shoulder for support without seeing whose it was. It was Michel's, who had not stirred from his side since he had first clasped his arm. Michel's face was as white as the mother's; but there was a resolute light in his eyes that was not to be seen in hers.
"Nothing can be done," answered one of the oldest men in answer to Nicolas's cry, "nothing, nothing! We do not know where the child is lost. See! there are leagues and leagues of sand; and one might wander miles away from where the poor little creature is at this instant. The great archangel St. Michel protect her!"
"I will go," said the mother, lifting herself up; and, raising her voice, she called loudly, with a cry that rang and echoed against the walls, "Phine! Phine! my little Phine, come back to thy poor mother!" But there was no answer, except the sobs and prayers of the women and children clustering behind her.
"Thou canst not go!" exclaimed Nicolas; "there are our other little ones to think of; nor can I leave thee and them. My God! is there then no one who will go and seek my little Delphine?"
