Stavanger Bay l'ingénue

His vague, half-formed prayers were answered swiftly, it seemed. As the boy wandered across the grassy expanse, he thought he spied movement far-off from himself; in turning to meet it, he had hardly any time to duck low as a hunter might. It was a good thing he was not so quick to move, because the creatures he caught sight of here not fit to be meals at all — although as he made his jovial approach, he did notice the fine features of one entity, and felt a-flutter in his heart. The pair of strangers were still at quite the distance, but Renoir could see the reedy figure of a man, accompanied by the stark opposite: a pale girl who seemed eager for adventure.

Renoir was easily reminded of his darling sister, though she was far more meek by comparison. This child was just as fair - and appeared to be of sound breeding - and Renoir felt his heart go out to her. What a lovely creature, this tiny angel child — how lucky he was, too, for having found her. The wanderer wished to know this girl and her attendant, although he could not think of a proper way to do so.

Perhaps they were heading to the beach from whence Renoir had ventured? It was a dangerous place, and as that fleeting thought passed through his mind, a brief expression of worry worked its way across his masked face. He thought it only right to drift closer, and when he was within earshot of them, he called out, 'Ou are going to da lanmè — the seaside, yes? It is trè bèl today! The tide had been returning as he did, which would perhaps make it safer for the two of them.