He turned from the sea and looked towards the cliff. Now he had the
palace on his left hand. On his right, not far off, was a high bluff
going almost sheer into the sea. Nevertheless, access to the village
was possible by the strip of rocks beneath it. Had Hermione gone to
the village by the rocks? If she had, Gaspare's keen eyes would surely
have seen her. Artois looked at the blank wall of the palace. This
extended a little way, then turned at right angles. Just beyond the
angle, in its shadow, there was a low and narrow doorway. Artois moved
along the wall, reached this doorway, stood without it, and listened.
The grass here grew right up to the stones of the ruin. He had come
almost without noise. Before him he saw blackness, the blackness of a
passage extending from the orifice of the doorway to an interior
chamber of the palace. He heard the peculiar sound of moving water
that is beset and covered in by barriers of stone, a hollow and
pugnacious murmur, as of something so determined that it would be
capable of striving through eternity, yet of something that was
wistful and even sad.
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