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of her own secret activities), had helped her slip out of the row house owned by M. Aronnax.   At the appointed time, Caroline hurried through the streets, strange byways that took on an entirely different character with nightfall.   She was anxious to find Verne and Nemo, concerned they might think she had gone back on her word.
    They were to meet in a darkened back street behind the smelly fish-cleaner’s stalls.   Anticipation of scampering about in the dark alleyways near the docks, even to go aboard one of the tall ships, sped her footsteps.  
    Forcing from her mind the unthinkable ramifications of being found out, she turned a corner and caught her breath.   This was no playground, no garden party.   Offending smells struck her hard, as did the presence of a drunken dockhand sprawled across her path.   What am I doing here?
    As her courage was about to fail her, Nemo and Verne approached from the opposite alley.   Caroline’s unease melted in an instant, and she spun around with a swish of her watered silk gown.   Nemo grasped her right hand and smiled that broad white grin.   “A world of adventure is waiting,” he said, while Verne hurried to take her other hand.   Delighted and filled with wonder, they dashed together toward the creaking ships tied up to the docks.   Verne panted to keep up with them. . . .
    As the stars wheeled toward midnight, they spent hours play-acting scenes of pirates and swagmen.   Nemo fell into the role of brave hero, proud to rescue the fair maiden from the clutches of Jules Verne, who relished being the villain -- though, whenever Nemo came at him with even a mock sword, Verne fled.
    Caroline’s heart fluttered as Nemo swept her into his arms and protected her from the imagined cutthroat.   Earlier, she had dismissed tales of damsels in distress as mere feminine nonsense, but the swashbuckling young man made it seem so real.   What was it about him?
    That night, months ago, had been all she’d hoped for, and more.   Caroline clung to the memory of climbing, laughing, jumping, even swinging from a real sailor’s rope.   Far from sitting still with proper manners, they had danced in the alleyways of Nantes.   Later, they had spun tales of adventure, casting themselves in the most outrageous of roles.
    In the deepest night, as they paused to catch their breath, Verne had grown nervous and agitated.   “I need to get back into my home.”   He pulled out a thick brass key for his front door.   “My little brother Paul sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night.   What if he finds me gone?”
    Sad that their adventures must end, Caroline was also aware of how terrible it would be if she were caught out.   Nemo stood beside her.   “I will see that Caroline arrives home safely, Jules.   Run back to your house, and step quietly up your stairs.”
    With a fumbled goodbye, a confused gesture that seemed to be an attempt to kiss her goodnight but was withdrawn at the last instant, Verne ran down the streets with long legs and clomping feet.
    As Nemo walked beside her, though, Caroline’s sense of urgency faded.   “I would never let anything happen to you,” he said, and she believed him completely.   Caroline did not concern herself with fears of highwaymen or cutpurses or kidnappers -- after all, had she not just seen how the swashbuckling André Nemo could deal with any foe?
    When they arrived back at the merchant’s house, Caroline slipped around to the servants’ entrance -- astonished to find the door locked.   “Marie was supposed to leave it open for me!   She knew I was coming in late.”   Caroline bunched her small fists.
    “Perhaps you are out too late, even for her forgiveness,” Nemo said in a rich, understanding voice.
    Caroline shook her head.   “No.   She’s gone out on a rendezvous of her own, probably with that pottery-seller.”
    With good grace, Nemo took her arm.   “Then we’ll just have to find a comfortable place to