OR THE DESERT ISLAND. 71

Thus he spoke; and the moment afterwards he was
toiling his way down a narrow and precipitous path—a
task that required all his activity and attention. After a
fatiguing descent he entered the valley. There, on the
green and tender sward, beneath the shade of an odorife-
rous linden, he stretched his tired limbs ; and, until the
beams of the morning danced upon his eyelids, nothing in-
terrupted his profound and balmy repose.

He was hardly awake before he fancied he heard some
sweet and melodious voice. Raising his head from his
grassy pillow, he saw, not far from him, Philip Merville
busy already at his daily employment. He was nota little
astonished at the promptitude with which his enemy had
fashioned for himself a snug little cabin. In fact Philip
had availed himself of the wreck of the pinnace, which
the sea had thrown on shore, to build quite a comfortable
residence. He was now finishing the roof, merrily sing-
ing to the sound of his hammer. His hut was located in
the thickest part of the grove, at the foot of a young and
superb vine—the only one on the isle. As he covered the
roof, he extended across it the luscious branches, carefully
avoiding to bruise the almost ripened grapes, insomuch
that his cabin, though hardly completed, presented already
the charming aspect of a verdant bower.