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From the steep hillside a sea of faces looked down on him; those highest up, where only the sound of his voice could be heard, were eager, and tear-stained. Of those nearest him, some were astonished, some enthusiastic, some doubtful. The tears were pouring down Noemi's pale face also. The students had put off their air of raillery.
For, once, she had offended him by some thoughtless words concerning the lack of truthfulness in Italians, and now perhaps her exclamation might have the effect of recalling the shadow of that cloud. He was indeed annoyed, more by the embrace than by the protest, and, remembering, he also crimsoned and maintained that in Noemi's place Maria herself would have denied everything.
"I have had a letter from Italy," she said, after gently waving aside Noemi's pressing inquiries. "Don Giuseppe Flores is dead." "Flores? Who is he?" Noemi did not remember him, and Jeanne chided her sharply, as if such forgetfulness rendered her unworthy of her position of confidante. Don Giuseppe Flores was the old Venetian priest who had brought a last message from Piero Maironi to Villa Diedo.
And by what right do you deny her to me? Am I not Noémi's betrothed, who would make her my legal wife and bring her to honor, while you can never marry her, and can only make her unhappy?" The man drops boiling oil on Timar's heart: he wrung his hands in agony. "Will you write to Noémi, or shall I take these four letters over to the cloister?"
Keep half your trees, for all I care, and leave the other half to me; where and how I sell them is my affair. Give Noémi the nut-trees for a dowry: for those I have, really, a certain purchaser." Therese had come to the end of her patience. "Listen, Theodor. I do not know whether to-day is your fête or not, but one thing I do know, that it is not Noémi's birthday.
"You can never return here," said Timar to himself. "If it is difficult to carry through one lie with consistency, how can you manage two? two contradictory lies? If you accept Noémi's love, you will be inseparably bound to her, and must live henceforth two lives, both full of deceit. .
Sister Emmerich used to say that the life of this Samaritan woman was prophetic that Jesus had spoken to the entire sect of Samaritans in her person, and that they were attached to their errors by as many ties as she had committed adulteries. Mara of Suphan was a Moabitess, came from the neighbourhood of Suphan, and was a descendant of Orpha, the widow of Chelion, Noemi's son.
A thought came into his head. "How if Noémi were dead already?" Why should not this be possible? What a burden it would free him from that of persuading her to the dreadful step. He who has one fixed idea expects of fate that everything should happen as he has planned. Near the white rose-bush no doubt a second already stands, which will bloom red in spring on Noémi's grave.
She grew white, and then red, then she seemed to find her voice, and asked me if she could wait upstairs in Noemi's room till she came back. At first I said `No, but she would not take a refusal; she insisted upon waiting; and there she is, I could not get her to leave the place." Madame Jeannel stood opposite to me; I lifted my eyes, and met hers steadily.
"It will blight the whole of her life," said I; "she is so innocent of evil, and she loves him so much." I took up my hat as I spoke, and followed Madame Jeannel downstairs and into the street. When we reached her house, I left her in her own little parlour upon the entresol, and with a resolute step but a heavy heart I went alone to confront the strange woman in Noemi's room.
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