Mme. Rosemilly cried out:  “Look, look, I see one, a big one.  A very big one, just there!” He saw it too, and stepped boldly into the pool, though he got wet up to the waist.  But the creature, waving its long whiskers, gently retired in front of the net.  Jean drove it towards the sea-weed, making sure of his prey.  When it found itself blockaded it rose with a dart over the net, shot across the mere, and was gone.  The young woman, who was watching the chase in great excitement, could not help exclaiming:  “Oh!  Clumsy!”

He was vexed, and without a moment’s thought dragged his net over a hole full of weed.  As he brought it to the surface again he saw in it three large transparent prawns, caught blindfold in their hiding-place.

He offered them in triumph to Mme. Rosemilly, who was afraid to touch them, for fear of the sharp, serrated crest which arms their heads.  However, she made up her mind to it, and taking them up by the tip of their long whiskers she dropped them one by one into her creel, with a little seaweed to keep them alive.  Then, having found a shallower pool of water, she stepped in with some hesitation, for the cold plunge of her feet took her breath away, and began to fish on her own account.  She was dextrous and artful, with the light hand and the hunter’s instinct which are indispensable.  At almost every dip she brought up some prawns, beguiled and surprised by her ingeniously gentle pursuit.

Jean now caught nothing; but he followed her, step by step, touched her now and again, bent over her, pretended great distress at his own awkwardness, and besought her to teach him.

“Show me,” he kept saying.  “Show me how.”

And then, as their two faces were reflected side by side in water so clear that the black weeds at the bottom made a mirror, Jean smiled at the face which looked up at him from the depth, and now and then from his finger-tips blew it a kiss which seemed to light upon it.

“Oh! how tiresome you are!” she exclaimed.  “My dear fellow, you should never do two things at once.”

He replied:  “I am only doing one—­loving you.”

She drew herself up and said gravely: 

“What has come over you these ten minutes; have you lost your wits?”

“No, I have not lost my wits.  I love you, and at last I dare to tell you so.”

They were at this moment both standing in the salt pool wet half-way up to their knees and with dripping hands, holding their nets.  They looked into each other’s eyes.

She went on in a tone of amused annoyance.

“How very ill-advised to tell me here and now!  Could you not wait till another day instead of spoiling my fishing?”

“Forgive me,” he murmured, “but I could not longer hold my peace.  I have loved you a long time.  To-day you have intoxicated me and I lost my reason.”

Then suddenly she seemed to have resigned herself to talk business and think no more of pleasure.