Many rocks infest it, and islands grow up or disappear in a night." The Chevalier fingered the quilt and said nothing.

By and by his eyes closed, and Breton, thinking his master had fallen asleep, again picked up his book.

But he could not concentrate his thought upon it.

He was continually flying over the sea to old Martin's daughter, to the grey chateau nestling in the green hills.

He was not destined long to dream.