The old watchman appeared suddenly at the trap door and shouted: "Hey, there! Who goes there? Oh, it's you, petite madame. Wait. I'll open for you." And he threw the trap door fully open.

They descended the turning stairway and Rango smelled the tar with delight. When he saw the room, the shadows, the beams, he exclaimed: "It's like The Tales of Hoffmann. It's a dream. It's a fairy tale."

Old grandfather of the river, ex-captain of a pleasure yacht, snorted insolently at this remark and went back to his cabin.

"This is what I wanted," said Rango.

He bent down to enter the very small room at the tip of the barge which was like a small pointed prison with barred windows. The enormous anchor chain hung before the iron bars. The floor had been worn away, rotted with dampness, and they could see through the holes the layer of water which lies at the bottom of every ship, like the possessive fingers of the sea and the river asserting its ownership of the boat.

Rango said: "If ever you're unfaithful to me, I will lock you up in this room."

With the tall shadows all around them, the medieval beams cracking above their heads, the lapping water, the mildew at the bottom, the anchor chain's rusty plaintiveness, Djuna believed his words.

"Djuna, you're taking me to the bottom of the sea to live, like a real mermaid."

"I must be a mermaid, Rango. I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow living. But you, poor Rango, you're from the mountain, water is not your element. You won't be happy."

"Men from the mountains always dream of the sea, and above all things I love to travel. Where are we sailing now?"

As he said this, another barge passed up the river close to theirs. The whole barge heaved; the large wooden frame cracked like a giant's bones.

Rango lay down and said: "We're navigating."

"We're out of the world. All the dangers are outside, out in the world." All the dangers...dangers to the love, they believed as all lovers believe, came from the outside, from the world, never suspecting the seed of death of love might lie within themselves.

"I want to keep you here, Djuna. I would like it if you never left the barge."

"I wouldn't mind staying here."

(If it were not for Zora, Zora awaiting food, awaiting medicines, awaiting Rango to light the fire.)

"Rango, when you kiss me the barge rocks."

The red lantern threw fitful shadows, feverish red lights, over their faces. He named it the aphrodisiac lamp.

He lighted a fire in the stove. He threw his cigarette into the water. He kissed her feet, untied her shoes, he unrolled her stockings.

They heard something fall into the water.

"It's a flying fish," said Djuna.