t to go back to the glare and noise. The moon shines
so bright! I have been thinking"--

He bent his head and kissed her twice. "Poor Arpasia! Poor tired child!
Soon we shall go home, Audrey,--we two, my love, we two!"

"I have been thinking, sitting here in the moonlight," she went on, her
hands clasped upon his shoulder, and her cheek resting on them. "I was so
ignorant. I never dreamed that I could wrong her ... and when I awoke it
was too late. And now I love you,--not the dream, but you. I know not what
is right or wrong; I know only that I love. I think she
understands--forgives. I love you so!" Her hands parted, and she stood
from him with her face raised to the balm of the night. "I love you so,"
she repeated, and the low cadence of her laugh broke the silver stillness
of the garden. "The moon up there, she knows it. And the stars,--not one
has fallen to-night! Smell the flowers. Wait, I will pluck you hyacinths."

They grew by the doorstep, and she broke the slender stalks and gave them
into his hand. But when he had kissed them he would give them back, would
fasten them himself in the folds of silk, that rose and fell with her
quickened breathing. He fastened them with a brooch which he took from the
Mechlin at his throat. It was the golden horseshoe, the token that he had
journeyed to the Endless Mountains.

"Now I must go," said Audrey. "They are calling for Arpasia. Follow me not
at once. Good-night, good-night! Ah, I love you so! Remember always that I
love you so!"

She was gone. In a few minutes he also reentered the playhouse, and went
to his former place where, with none of his kind about him, he might watch
her undisturbed. As he made his way with some difficulty through the
throng, he was aware that he brushed against a man in a great peruke, who,
despite the heat of the house, was wrapped in an old roquelaure tawdrily
laced; also that the man was keeping stealthy pace with him, and that when
he at last reached his station the cloaked figure fell into place
immediately behind him.

Haward shrugged his shoulders, but would not turn his head, and thereby
grant recognition to Jean Hugon, the trader. Did he so, the half-breed
might break into speech, provoke a quarrel, make God knew what assertion,
what disturbance. To-morrow steps should be taken--Ah, the curtain!

The silence deepened, and men and women leaned forward holding their
breath. Darden's Audrey, robed and crowned as Arpasia, sat alone