Here, however, nobody went to the dogs.  Life on the shore was prim and patriarchal.  Whole families sat or lay about on camp stools or on traveling rugs, the wives in morning wraps, the husbands smoking in linen suits; the former occupied with needlework, the latter reading the newspapers or novels.  The young people ran about barefoot and in bathing costume, or lay at the edge of the water fishing for shrimps, which they rarely or never caught.  There were merry, noisy groups of bathers in the shallow water near the shore, splashing one another, shrieking at the approach of the larger waves, bobbing up and down, and shouting encouragement to the newcomers, who only ventured timidly and by degrees into the chilly waters.  As very few of the bathers could swim, this all took place in the close vicinity.

At first Wilhelm had been rather shocked to see the two sexes bathing together, and that the girls and married women—­coming out of the sea with their legs and arms bare, and their clinging, wet bathing dresses revealing the outline of their forms with embarrassing distinctness—­should calmly stroll back to the bathing houses under the open gaze of the men.  For that reason he even refrained from going to the shore at the bathing hour, or bathing there himself.  By degrees, however, he grew accustomed to it, seeing that nobody thought anything of it, and that the almost nude figures disported themselves among their equally unconcerned parents, relatives, and friends with the naive unconsciousness of South Sea Islanders.

As he made his way, not too easily, over the rolling shingle between the chattering, lazy groups, he saw his neighbor of the table d’hote sitting, a little apart, on a camp stool under a large dark sunshade, an open book on her lap, and her eyes fixed on the smooth, bright surface of the ocean.  She noticed Wilhelm, and smiled and nodded pleasantly, almost before he could bow to her.  There was something of invitation in her nod, which, however, he did not follow, he could not have said exactly why.  Confused, and a prey to all sorts of undefined emotions, he continued his walk till he reached the point where the waves, breaking at the very foot of the cliff, prevented his going any further.  As he turned, ho remembered that he would have to pass her again, and considered if he could not avoid it by keeping close to the cliff and so get behind her.  But why go out of his way to avoid her?  That was driving shyness to the verge of churlishness.  She was friendly toward him, why repay her kindness by such foolish and uncalled-for reserve?  And ashamed, almost indignant at himself, he came to a sudden determination, and directed his steps straight toward the lady.  She had watched him all the time, and now smiled to him from afar, as she saw him making for her.

When he got up to her he stood still and raised his hat.  She saved him the embarrassment of making a beginning by saying at once in the most natural tone in the world: