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It was Arithelli not "Fatalité" who smiled back at him. The little mask-like face changed and grew soft till she looked more a girl, less an embodied tragedy. Vardri's wild spirits were infectious, and, as on the night of the Hippodrome fiasco, Youth called and Love made answer. "Mon ami, I am so glad you have come." "Is this the first time you have been out? Who said you could get up?
He grinned as he lit another evil-smelling cigarette, at the thought of Vardri's proposal. He possessed an artistic sense of the fitness of things, and the suggested Soeur de Charité appealed to him as being quite out of the picture.
She dressed slowly, singing under her breath as she plaited her hair before Agnès Sorél's mirror. Before she left the room she thrust the loose sheets of Vardri's letter between the folds of her blouse, leaving the envelope lying among the bed clothes.
Something in Vardri's attitude of courteous defiance appealed to him by the law that will attract strongly one man's mind to another, diverse in every way. He could see that Vardri was plainly consumptive, and that the disease was in its advanced stages.
She stumbled towards the bed of hay, still warm with the impress of her own figure, and flung herself upon it face downwards and lay there whispering to herself over and over again Vardri's name as one whispers a charm. Would he forget her one of these days and marry someone else? Had it been real, anything of this that she had lived through during these months in Spain?
Don't try to talk if it makes you worse." "I won't if you'll stay." To Arithelli caresses did not come easily, but during the last few weeks she had learnt many things. She stroked the dark head that rested against her knee, wondering how it was that she had never before noticed till to-day how feverishly brilliant Vardri's eyes were, and how his skin burnt.
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.
It was both a foolish and useless protest and Arithelli knew that she would pay afterwards for these snatched moments, but she did not grudge the price, for to her they seemed worth the payment required. She was glad of the air too. She turned a little in Vardri's arms, lifting her face to the soft night wind. The coolness and the dark were like the touch of a soothing hand.
Emile had also explained Vardri's position, and it would be impossible to adjust anything without being on the spot. He read the letter over again, slowly and carefully. It hinted and suggested more than it had said. Emile had just come from an interview with Sobrenski, and there had been a talk of an entire re-organization of the band.
There are several feet between it and the water." Vardri's eyes had never moved from the girl's face. He knew that her heart was affected, and she had told him once that she would never attempt to go on the tight-rope or trapeze because the mere thought of a height always terrified her.
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