United States or San Marino ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The guitar twanged merrily, the reed-like notes of the flute were true and clear as the song of a thrush. The melody turned and climbed and twisted, rose to a climax, and re-commenced again the same phrase. Arithelli listened, hypnotised and bewitched, as she always was by music. Something wild and primitive in her responded to the shrill, sweet, insistent call.
If he wanted companionship he preferred men, for as companions women bored him. But Arithelli was not a woman yet. She appeared able to keep own counsel, to do as she was told, and to judge by the way she rode, her courage would be capable of standing a severe test. Also it had occurred to him that she possessed the art of being a good comrade. It would amuse him to watch her develop.
"Would I lose you now? Would I take you then? If I lose you now that my heart has need, And come what may after death to men, What thing worth this will the dead years breed?" Three days later the early morning post brought Arithelli a letter. She sat up in bed eagerly to receive it, and with the heaviness of sleep still upon her eyes.
All round, for miles, were undulating waves of green, here and there the brown towers of some ancient castle, or the buildings of a farmstead; and below on the plain the glitter of the winding river. They climbed to the wooded slopes of Olese, where they sat down to rest. Arithelli threw herself on the short, dry grass, with her arms under her head, and drew a long breath of pleasure and relief.
After what Arithelli had confessed it would be dangerous for them both if he stayed. For a moment the primaeval man in him leapt up, telling him that he had only to pit himself against Vardri, and the victory would be assuredly his own. His rival was only a boy, and Emile knew that if there came the struggle between male and male, the odds were all in his own favour.
The rich escaped from the heat to their villas up in the mountains, those whom business, or lack of money, kept in the city, existed in a parched and sweltering condition. Arithelli still kept her place among the performers at the Hippodrome, though after the fashion of circus artists her name had been changed.
For a few minutes after he had gone, Arithelli stood motionless, still with her hands pressed tightly over her eyes, trying to command her brain to work clearly. Her will and her limbs seemed paralysed. She could only wait for Vardri's approach.
These were the people who did an incredible amount of harm, who were even more dangerous than the ordinary traitor. He pushed the letter underneath some others, and Arithelli had knocked more than once, before he called "Entrez!" He saluted her with a cold scrutiny, telling her to wait till he had finished.
"I quite believe you will," he snapped. "I suppose you think you're going to do the leaping act in a court train and feathers! Is there anything more you would like to suggest?" The intended sarcasm was not a success. Arithelli considered gravely. "I don't think so, thank you," she said at last. "But if I do think of anything else I'll tell you. And I should like to see the horses."
To his profound surprise the Manager found himself acknowledging it, with like dignity. At eight o'clock that evening she sat before the glass in her dressing-room and awaited the shouted summons of the impish call-boy, who respected no one on earth, and to whom she was never "Mamzelle" or "Señora," but only Arithelli.
Word Of The Day