A NIGHT IN THE BOAT This was one of many nights we passed in the narrow confines of the boat during our flight northward.

Yet its incidents remain in memory with peculiar distinctness of detail.

I do not recall exactly how it occurred, but my duty during that first night chanced to place me at the after oar.

In consequence I sat directly facing Madame de Noyan, operating the rudder bar.

It was so warm, merely a delicate, fragrant breeze blowing from the south, she had felt no necessity for drawing up her hood, and the soft light of distant stars, glimmering along the bosom of the river, reflected back into her face, illumining it until I could almost note the changing expression within her dark eyes.
It was a sadder, graver face than the one I associated with her girlhood.