He looked at the land, and he looked at the white speck and the puff of
smoke. Then suddenly his heart leaped with the thrilling inspiration
of a wild impossibility.
"Let us leave Illerville and France behind us. Death is as certain
either way."
The little Princess looked at him wonderingly.
"Where are we going?"
"To England."
"Anywhere but Illerville," she said.
He struck out seawards, she followed. Each saw the other's face white
and set. They had current and tide with them, they swam steadily,
undistressed. After a silence she called to him.
"Vince, if we go to our kingdom under the sea, you will take me down in
your arms?"
"In a last kiss," he said.
He had heard (as who has not) of Love being stronger than Death. Now
he knew its truth. But he swore to himself a great oath that they
should not die.
"I shall take my princess to a better kingdom," he said later.
Presently he heard her breathing painfully. She could not hold out
much longer.
"I will carry you," he said.
An expert swimmer, she knew the way to hold his shoulders and leave his
arms unimpeded. The contact of her light young form against his body
thrilled him and redoubled his strength. He held his head for a second
high out of the water and turned half round.
"Do you think I am going to let you die--now?"
The white speck had grown into a white hull, and Somerset was making
across its track. To do so he must deflect slightly from the line of
the current. His great battle began.
He swam doggedly, steadily, husbanding his strength. If the vessel
justified his first flash of inspiration, and if he could reach her, he
knew how he should act. As best he could, for it was no time for
speech, he told Ottilie his hopes. He felt the spray from her lips
upon his cheek, as she said:
"It seems sinful to wish for greater happiness than this."
After that there was utter silence between them. At first he thought
exultingly of Bernheim and the Princess Rabomirski, and the rage of
their wicked hearts; of the future glorified by his little Princess of
the unconquerable soul: of the present's mystic consummation of their
marriage. But gradually mental concepts lost sharpness of definition.
Sensation began to merge itself into a half-consciousness of stroke on
stroke through the illimitable waste. Despite the laughing morning
sunshine, the sky became dark and lowering. The weight on his neck
grew heavier. At first Ottilie had only rested her arms. Now her feet
were as lead and sank behind him; her clasp tightened about his
shoulders. He struggled on through a welter of sea and mist. Strange
sounds sang in his ears, as if over them had been clamped great
sea-shells. At each short breath his throat gulped down bitter water.
A horrible pain crept across his chest. His limbs seemed paralysed and
yet he remained above the surface. The benumbed brain wondered at the
miracle....
The universe broke upon his vision as a blurred mass of green and
white. He recognised it vaguely as his kingdom beneath the sea, and as
in a dream he remembered his promise. He slipped round. His lips met
Ottilie's. His arms wound round about her, and he sank, holding her
tightly clasped.
Strange things happened. He was pulled hither and thither by sea
monsters welcoming him to his kingdom. In a confused way he wondered
that he could breathe so freely in the depths of the ocean.
Unutterable happiness stole upon him. The Kingdom was _real_. His
sham Princess would be queen in very truth. But where was she?
He opened his eyes and found himself lying on the deck of a ship. A
couple of men were doing funny things to his arms. A rosy-faced man in
white ducks and a yachting cap stood over him with a glass of brandy.
When he had drunk the spirit, the rosy man laughed.
"That was a narrow shave. We got you just in time. We were nearly
right on you. The young woman is doing well. My wife is looking after
her."
As soon as he could collect his faculties, Somerset asked,
"Are you the _Mavis_?"
"Yes."
"I felt sure of it. Are you Sir Henry Ransome?"
"That's my name."
"I heard you were expected at Illerville to-day," said Somerset. "That
is why I made for you."
The two men who had been doing queer things with his arms wrapped him
in a blanket and propped him up against the deck cabin.
"But what on earth were you two young people doing in the middle of the
English Channel?" asked the owner of the _Mavis_.
"We were eloping," said Somerset.
The other looked at him for a bewildered moment and burst into a roar
of laughter. He turned to the cabin door and disappeared, to emerge a
moment afterwards followed by a lady in a morning wrapper.
"What do you think, Marian? It's an elopement."
Somerset smiled at them.
"Have you ever heard of the Princess Rabomirski? You have? Well, this
is her daughter. Perhaps you know of the Count Bernheim who is always
about with the Princess?"
"I trod on him last winter at Monte Carlo," said Sir Henry Ransome.
"He survives," said Somerset, "and has bought the Princess Ottilie from
her mother. He's not going to get her. She belongs to me. My name is
Somerset, and I am foreign sub-editor of the _Daily Post_."
"I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Somerset," said Sir
Henry with a smile. "And now what can I do for you?"
"If you can lend us some clothes and take us to any part on earth save
Illerville-sur-Mer, you will earn our eternal gratitude."
Sir Henry looked doubtful. "We have made our arrangements for
Illerville," said he.
His wife broke in.
"If you don't take these romantic beings straight to Southampton, I'll
never set my foot upon this yacht again."
"It was you, my dear, who were crazy to come to Illerville."
"Don't you think," said Lady Ransome, "you might provide Mr. Somerset
with some dry things?"
Four hours afterwards Somerset sat on deck by the side of Ottilie, who,
warmly wrapped, lay on a long chair. He pointed to the far-away
coastline of the Isle of Wight.
"Behold our kingdom!" said he.
The little Princess laughed.
"That is not our kingdom."
"Well, what is?"
"Just the little bit of space that contains both you and me," she said.