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Updated: June 12, 2025
She felt that she could not endure any more suspense and strain. Anything would be better than this interminable, awful waiting in the semi-darkness and loneliness, with neither friend nor lover at hand, no single human to take her part or defend her. Emile had gone and now Vardri, and she must face everything alone.
She could distinguish his footsteps, and then the monotonous regular footfalls of his mount. She ran out into the patch of moonlight, casting a hurried backward glance at the side of the hut. Thank God! the window was on the other side! Vardri was coming slowly towards her, his horse's bridle over his arm.
As she read, the lace at her throat trembled with her quickened breathing, and her heart called back an answer to the tender, reckless phrases. Vardri was idealist as well as lover, and graceful turns of expression came to his pen readily and without effort. In many pages of characteristic, hurried, irregular writing he set forth wild and unpractical schemes for their future.
In that undisturbed space and clear dry air, sound travelled quickly, and she could hear the approaching hoof-beats while he was still some way off. With the knowledge of his approach the blood flowed again warmly in her veins and courage and decision came back to her. Her senses, unnaturally acute, told her that Vardri had now dismounted and was leading his horse.
"Well, anyway it doesn't matter," he said, "I don't want to play or do anything; I just want to be with you." "Bring up a chair, and sit and smoke, mon camarade." She held out her hand with a gesture of invitation, and Vardri took it and kissed it, and went back to his former position at her feet. "Shall I read to you?" he asked. "Ah! I'd forgotten there was something I wanted to tell you.
Once again they kissed and clung together. Though Arithelli's lips burnt, they scorched with the fires of despair rather than with those of passion. In silence Vardri helped her to her feet, and they walked together to the door. "You'll come to me to-morrow," Arithelli said.
Here he stood doing nothing, he who would have been tortured to save her! The window was shut and one of the men said: "She's down all right after all. I thought by the look of her she would have fainted. She has some pluck, Mademoiselle Fatalité!" "Yes," answered Sobrenski. "Here's the coward and traitor." Vardri wheeled round, looking straight into the cold eyes of his leader.
"Let me go in, dear," Arithelli said. "They will expect to find things ready." But Vardri held her back. "Let them expect! Give them the trouble of looking for you. They keep you up all night, so they can afford to waste a few minutes extra."
"You are risking a great deal for her. Poleski has told me something of your circumstances, and it appears that if you do not get some appointment very soon, you will starve." Vardri straightened himself, throwing back his head with a characteristic gesture. He looked the older man in the eyes, his own alight and eloquent under finely drawn brows. "That's as it may be! I'll take my chance of work.
Yet she dare not show a sign of haste or emotion lest he should suspect something amiss and refuse to go. "Dear, it is a wonderful plan this, of yours," Vardri was saying. "But how can I leave you here alone with these devils? It makes me cold to think of it." "You'll leave me because I shall be safer alone. You must see that, mon ami." She clung to him, putting up her face towards his.
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