t here and there hinted at the unfailing grace of
attitude which was one of her natural possessions.

She had thought of him, but not in connection with the strangers. She
had admired him from the first; she had been attracted by his warm
voice, his gentle eye, but she had felt him too wonderfully difficult to
know. He had given to life a savour, a movement, a promise mingled with
menaces, which she had not suspected were to be found in it--or, at any
rate, not by a girl wedded to misery as she was. She said to herself
that she must not be irritated because he seemed too self-contained, and
as if shut up in a world of his own. When he took her in his arms, she
felt that his embrace had a great and compelling force, that he was
moved deeply, and that perhaps he would not get tired of her so very
soon. She thought that he had opened to her the feelings of delicate
joy, that the very uneasiness he caused her was delicious in its
sadness, and that she would try to hold him as long as she could--till
her fainting arms, her sinking soul, could cling to him no more.

"Wang's not here, of course?" Heyst said suddenly. She answered as if in
her sleep.

"He put this light down here without stopping, and ran."

"Ran, did he? H'm! Well, it's considerably later than his usual time
to go home to his Alfuro wife; but to be seen running is a sort of
degradation for Wang, who has mastered the art of vanishing. Do you
think he was startled out of his perfection by something?"

"Why should he be startled?"

Her voice remained dreamy, a little uncertain.

"I have been startled," Heyst said.

She was not listening to him. The lantern at their feet threw the
shadows of her face upward. Her eyes glistened, as if frightened and
attentive, above a lighted chin and a very white throat.

"Upon my word," mused Heyst, "now that I don't see them, I can hardly
believe that those fellows exist!"

"And what about me?" she asked, so swiftly that he made a movement like
somebody pounced upon from an ambush. "When you don't see me, do you
believe that I exist?"

"Exist? Most charmingly! My dear Lena, you don't know your own
advantages. Why, your voice alone would be enough to make you
unforgettable!"

"Oh, I didn't mean forgetting in that way. I dare say if I were to
die you would remember me right enough. And what good would that be to
anybody? It's while I am alive that I want--"

Heyst stood by her chair, a stalwart figure imperfectly l