The visitor stood with her back to the door, silent and motionless as a
statue. A burning log crackled with a sharp report, and a thousand
sparks flew heaven-ward. There were wonderful lights in this woman's
eyes and a high color on her somewhat thin cheeks. A minute passed;
and another ticked itself into eternity. The Chevalier sat upright and
stirred restlessly. The paper of the cabal crackled in his hand. . . .
What was it? he wondered. Something, he could not tell what, seemed
drawing, drawing. He became vaguely conscious of a presence. He
turned his head slowly.
"Madame?" He jumped to his feet, his hand bearing heavily upon the
back of his chair. "Madame?" he repeated.
The great courage which had brought her here ebbed, and her hand stole
toward the latch. Neither of them realized how long a time they faced
each other, a wonder in his eyes, an unfamiliar glory in hers.
"Monsieur . . ." she began; but her throat contracted and grew hot.
She could not bring another word to her lips. The glisten in her eyes
dimmed for a moment, but the color on her cheeks deepened and spread to
her throat and brow.
Pages:
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555