It was still early, not nine o’clock.  The sea lay calm and empty all about her.  Was she really the only person in Valpre, she wondered, who cared for a morning dip?  She had swum some way from the little town, and now found herself nearing the point where the rocks jutted far out to the sea.  The Magic Cave was at no great distance.  She saw the darkness of it and the water foaming white against the cliffs.  Even in the morning light it was an awesome spot, and she remembered how her friend had told her that the dragon was there when the tide was up.  With a timidity half-actual, half-assumed, she began to swim back to her starting-point.

Half-way back, feeling tired, she allowed herself a rest in consideration of the fact that this was the longest swim that she had ever undertaken.  Serenely she lay on the water with her hair floating about her.  The morning was perfect, the sea like a lake.  Overhead sailed a gull with no flap of wings.  She wondered how he did it, and longed to do the same.  It must be very nice to be a gull.

Regretfully at length—­for she was still feeling a little weary—­she resumed her leisurely journey towards the shore.  As she did so she caught the sound of oars grating in rowlocks.  She turned her head, saw a boat cutting through the water at a prodigious rate not twenty strokes from her, caught a glimpse of its one rower, and without a second’s hesitation flung up an imperious arm.

“Stop!” she cried.  “It’s me!”

He ceased to row on the instant, but the boat shot on.  She saw the concern in his face as he brought it back.  His black head shone wet in the sunlight.  He was evidently returning from a bathe himself.

“It’s all right,” smiled Chris.  “Are you in a great hurry?  I wondered if you would tow me a little way.  I’ve come too far, and I’m just a tiny bit tired.”

He brought the boat near, and shipped his oars.  “I will row you to the shore with pleasure, mademoiselle,” he said.

“No, no,” she said.  “Just throw me a rope, that’s all.”

“But I have no rope, mademoiselle.”

He leaned down to her as she swam alongside; but Chris still hung back, with laughing eyes upraised.  “You will capsize in a minute, and that won’t help either of us.  Really, I don’t think I will come out.”

But she gave him her hand, nevertheless.

His fingers closed upon it in a warm clasp that seemed very sure of itself.  He smiled down at her.  “I think otherwise, mademoiselle.”

She found it impossible to resist him, and so yielded with characteristic briskness of decision.  “Very well, if you will let me dive from the boat afterwards.  Hold tight, preux chevalier!  One—­two—­three!”

She came up to him out of the sea like a bird rising from the waves.  A moment he had her slim young body between his hands.  Then she stepped lightly upon the thwart, and he let her go.

And in that instant something happened:  something that was like the kindling of spirit into flame ran between them—­a transforming magic that only one knew for the Divine Miracle that changes the face of the whole earth.