They lay on the beach like a grey and a white sea-bird together. The
lazy ships that were idling down the Solent observed the cliffs and the
boulders, but Siegmund and Helena were too little. They lay ignored and
insignificant, watching through half-closed fingers the diverse caravan
of Day go past. They lay with their latticed fingers over their eyes,
looking out at the sailing of ships across their vision of blue water.
'Now, that one with the greyish sails--' Siegmund was saying.
'Like a housewife of forty going placidly round with the duster--yes?'
interrupted Helena.
'That is a schooner. You see her four sails, and--' He continued to classify the shipping, until he was interrupted by the
wicked laughter of Helena.
'That is right, I am sure,' he protested.
'I won't contradict you,' she laughed, in a tone which showed him he
knew even less of the classifying of ships than she did.
'So you have lain there amusing yourself at my expense all the time?' he
said, not knowing in the least why she laughed. They turned and looked
at one another, blue eyes smiling and wavering as the beach wavers in
the heat. Then they closed their eyes with sunshine.
Drowsed by the sun, and the white sand, and the foam, their thoughts
slept like butterflies on the flowers of delight. But cold shadows
startled them up.
'The clouds are coming,' he said regretfully.
'Yes; but the wind is quite strong enough for them,' she answered, 'Look at the shadows--like blots floating away. Don't they devour the
sunshine?' 'It is quite warm enough here,' she said, nestling in to him.
'Yes; but the sting is missing. I like to feel the warmth biting in.' 'No, I do not. To be cosy is enough.' 'I like the sunshine on me, real, and manifest, and tangible. I feel
like a seed that has been frozen for ages. I want to be bitten by the
sunshine.' She leaned over and kissed him. The sun came bright-footed over the
water, leaving a shining print on Siegmund's face. He lay, with
half-closed eyes, sprawled loosely on the sand. Looking at his limbs,
she imagined he must be heavy, like the bounders. She sat over him, with
her fingers stroking his eyebrows, that were broad and rather arched. He
lay perfectly still, in a half-dream.
Presently she laid her head on his breast, and remained so, watching the
sea, and listening to his heart-beats. The throb was strong and deep. It
seemed to go through the whole island and the whole afternoon, and it
fascinated her: so deep, unheard, with its great expulsions of life. Had
the world a heart? Was there also deep in the world a great God thudding
out waves of life, like a great heart, unconscious? It frightened her.
This was the God she knew not, as she knew not this Siegmund. It was so
different from the half-shut eyes with black lashes, and the winsome,
shapely nose. And the heart of the world, as she heard it, could not be
the same as the curling splash of retreat of the little sleepy waves.
She listened for Siegmund's soul, but his heart overbeat all other
sound, thudding powerfully.