He knew the place: Madame Steynlin's abode. The sight of it reminded
him of a promise to attend her picnic next week; all Nepenthe would be
invited, after the feast of Saint Eulalia. And hard by the shore, at
its foot, he discerned certain minute scarlet specks.
What could they be?
Why, of course! They were recognizable, even at this distance, as the
blouses of the Sacred Sixty-three, who frequented this somewhat public
spot for bathing purposes, blandly indifferent, or resigned, to the
gaze of inquisitive onlookers. Mr. Heard, among others, had witnessed
their aquatic diversions.
The Messiah was hindered by age and growing infirmities from taking
part in the proceedings; moreover, he had been sickening lately, it was
said, for some new Revelation--a Revelation of which the island was to
become cognizant that very morning. But others of the Muscovite band
were fond of congregating at this spot and hour for their lustral
summer rites--white-skinned lads and lasses, matrons and reverent
elders, all in a state of Adamitic nudity, splashing about the water of
this sunny cover, devouring raw fish and crabs after the manner of the
fabled Ichthyophagi, laughing, kissing, saying nice things about God,
and combing out each other's long tow-coloured hair.
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