The coming dance became a rite of Aphrodite, towards which all his being strained.
Suddenly, there was a loud snapping noise, as of breaking branches in the wood beside him.

It was so startling that his hands paused on the oars, as he looked quickly round to see what could have produced it.

And at the same moment the searchlight on the boathouse reached the spot to which his eyes were drawn, and he saw for an instant--sharply distinct and ghostly white--a woman's face and hands--amid the blackness of the wood.
He had only a moment in which to see them, in which to catch a glimpse of a figure among the trees, before the light was gone, leaving a double gloom behind it.
Mysterious! Who could it be?
Was it some one who wanted to be put across the pond?
He shouted.

"Who is that ?" Then he rowed in to the shore, straining his eyes to see.

It occurred to him that it might be a lady's maid brought by a guest, who had been out for a walk, and missed her way home in a strange park.