The Trespasser

Siegmund woke to the muffled firing of guns on the sea. He looked across

at the shaggy grey water in wonder. Then he turned to Helena.

'I suppose,' he said, 'they are saluting the Czar. Poor beggar!' 'I was afraid they would wake you,' she smiled.

They listened again to the hollow, dull sound of salutes from across the

water and the downs.

The day had gone grey. They decided to walk, down below, to the next

bay.

'The tide is coming in,' said Helena.

'But this broad strip of sand hasn't been wet for months. It's as soft

as pepper,' he replied.

They laboured along the shore, beside the black, sinuous line of

shrivelled fucus. The base of the cliff was piled with chalk debris. On

the other side was the level plain of the sea. Hand in hand, alone and

overshadowed by huge cliffs, they toiled on. The waves staggered in, and

fell, overcome at the end of the race.

Siegmund and Helena neared a headland, sheer as the side of a house, its

base weighted with a tremendous white mass of boulders, that the green

sea broke amongst with a hollow sound, followed by a sharp hiss of

withdrawal. The lovers had to cross this desert of white boulders, that

glistened in smooth skins uncannily. But Siegmund saw the waves were

almost at the wall of the headland. Glancing back, he saw the other

headland white-dashed at the base with foam. He and Helena must hurry,

or they would be prisoned on the thin crescent of strand still remaining

between the great wall and the water.

The cliffs overhead oppressed him--made him feel trapped and helpless.

He was caught by them in a net of great boulders, while the sea fumbled

for him. But he and Helena. She laboured strenuously beside him, blinded

by the skin-like glisten of the white rock.

'I think I will rest awhile,' she said.

'No, come along,' he begged.

'My dear,' she laughed, 'there is tons of this shingle to buttress us

from the sea.' He looked at the waves curving and driving maliciously at the boulders.

It would be ridiculous to be trapped.

'Look at this black wood,' she said. 'Does the sea really char it?' 'Let us get round the corner,' he begged.

'Really, Siegmund, the sea is not so anxious to take us,' she said

ironically.

When they rounded the first point, they found themselves in a small bay

jutted out to sea; the front of the headland was, as usual, grooved.

This bay was pure white at the base, from its great heaped mass of

shingle. With the huge concave of the cliff behind, the foothold of

massed white boulders, and the immense arc of the sea in front, Helena

was delighted.