bed with it whistling round me, and though I did not sleep much, yet still enjoyed an unspeakable pleasure, as if borne upwards by the wings of the wind and by the fresh gentle spirit of the sea. I did not seem to be conscious of my physical being; I felt as it were changed into spirit.
The next morning the scene presented a serious aspect. The heaven was clear; but the night-wind had driven the sea inland, and still continued to blow with the same force; the river swelled, and overflowed its banks and the land round our huts; one pool of water was brought into communication with another, and the pools all ran together into small lakes. It was no longer possible to walk from one hut to another; we paddled about like ducks in the water. The family began to be alarmed.
“If the wind continues in this direction we shall be surrounded with water in the morning!”
The wind did blow from that quarter. It was now impossible to pass from one hut to another, excepting with boats; the water had risen as high as Madame C.'s piazza. We could no longer go out.
“Ce n'est pas vivre ici.”
And they came to the hasty resolution of leaving La Pláya, and returning every one of them to La Concordia next morning. The eldest son and all the children were ill. The remainder of the family and I sat and talked together cheerfully enough in the evening till half-past ten, when I, in storm and darkness, partly splashing, and partly leaping through water, reached my cottage, where, with the storm roaring round me, and amid showers of rain, I still passed a very good night.
The next morning the camp broke up, and we returned to the Caffatal by the same narrow brook which we had before traversed to reach La Pláya. In the crowded space, the heat and inconvenience of all kinds, I felt a sort of silent despair in being obliged to increase the general
