The slight damage to the _Charles Quex_ had
been repaired, and at noon the ship was to sail. Stephen went on board
early, as he could think of nothing else which he preferred to do, and
he was repaid for his promptness. By the time he had seen his luggage
deposited in the cabin he had secured for himself alone, engaged a deck
chair, and taken a look over the ship--which was new, and as handsome as
much oak, fragrant cedar-wood, gilding, and green brocade could make
her--many other passengers were coming on board. Travelling first class
were several slim French officers, and stout Frenchmen of the commercial
class; a merry theatrical company going to act in Algiers and Tunis; an
English clergyman of grave aspect; invalids with their nurses, and two
or three dignified Arabs, evidently of good birth as well as fortune.
Arab merchants were returning from the Riviera, and a party of German
students were going second class.
Stephen was interested in the lively scene of embarkation, and glad to
be a part of it, though still more glad that there seemed to be nobody
on board whom he had ever met. He admired the harbour, and the shipping,
and felt pleasantly exhilarated. "I feel very young, or very old, I'm
not sure which," he said to himself as a faint thrill ran through his
nerves at the grinding groan of the anchor, slowly hauled out of the
deep green water.
It was as if he heard the creaking of a gate which opened into an
unknown garden, a garden where life would be new and changed.
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