The Trespasser

On the left stood the round fortress, quaintly chequered, and solidly

alone in the walk of water, amid the silent flight of the golden-and

crimson-winged boats.

Siegmund watched the bluish bulk of the island. Like the beautiful women

in the myths, his love hid in its blue haze. It seemed impossible.

Behind him, the white wake trailed myriads of daisies. On either hand

the grim and wicked battleships watched along their sharp noses. Beneath

him the clear green water swung and puckered as if it were laughing. In

front, Sieglinde's island drew near and nearer, creeping towards him,

bringing him Helena.

Meadows and woods appeared, houses crowded down to the shore to meet

him; he was in the quay, and the ride was over. Siegmund regretted it.

But Helena was on the island, which rode like an anchored ship under the

fleets of cloud that had launched whilst Siegmund was on water. As he

watched the end of the pier loom higher, large ponderous trains of cloud

cast over him the shadows of their bulk, and he shivered in the

chill wind.

His travelling was very slow. The sky's dark shipping pressed closer and

closer, as if all the clouds had come to harbour. Over the flat lands

near Newport the wind moaned like the calling of many violoncellos. All

the sky was grey. Siegmund waited drearily on Newport station, where the

wind swept coldly. It was Sunday, and the station and the island were

desolate, having lost their purposes.

Siegmund put on his overcoat and sat down. All his morning's blaze of

elation was gone, though there still glowed a great hope. He had slept

only two hours of the night. An empty man, he had drunk joy, and now the

intoxication was dying out.

At three o'clock of the afternoon he sat alone in the second-class

carriage, looking out. A few raindrops struck the pane, then the blurred

dazzle of a shower came in a burst of wind, and hid the downs and the

reeds that shivered in the marshy places. Siegmund sat in a chilly

torpor. He counted the stations. Beneath his stupor his heart was

thudding heavily with excitement, surprising him, for his brain

felt dead.

The train slowed down: Yarmouth! One more station, then. Siegmund

watched the platform, shiny with rain, slide past. On the dry grey under

the shelter, one white passenger was waiting. Suddenly Siegmund's heart

leaped up, wrenching wildly. He burst open the door, and caught hold of

Helena. She dilated, gave a palpitating cry as he dragged her into

the carriage.

'You _here_!' he exclaimed, in a strange tone. She was shivering with

cold. Her almost naked arms were blue. She could not answer Siegmund's

question, but lay clasped against him, shivering away her last chill as

his warmth invaded her. He laughed in his heart as she nestled in

to him.