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She felt herself for a moment such a tiny, dark thing
caught in the meshes of the great net of the Universe, this Universe
that she could never understand. What could she do? She must just sink
down upon the breast of this mystery, let it take her, hold her, do
with her what it would.
Her subtlety against Emile's! She smiled to herself in the dark. What
a combat of midgets! She seemed to see two marionettes battling in the
desert.
And yet--and yet! She remembered a saying of Flaubert's, that man is
like a nomad journeying on a camel through the desert; and he is the
nomad, and the camel--and the desert.
How true that was, for even now, as she felt herself to be nothing,
she felt herself to be tremendous.
She heard the sound of oars from the darkness before them, and saw the
dim outline of a boat, then the eyes of Emile looking straight into
hers.
"Emile!"
"Hermione!"
His face was gone. But yielding to her impulse she made Andrea stop,
and, turning round, saw that the other boat had also stopped a little
way from hers.


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