beforeit
,
and
clasped
it
in
her
arms
,
and
wept
over
it
and
kissed
it
,
because
it
had
been
the
work
of
his
hand
,
and
prayed
to
the
unknown
gods
to
make
her
suffer
all
things
in
his
stead
,
and
to
give
him
the
desire
of
his
soul
.
And
the
Red
Mouse
had
no
power
on
her
,
because
of
her
great
love
.
She
arose
from
that
prayer
with
her
mind
clear
,
and
her
nerves
strung
;
she
remembered
all
that
had
chanced
to
her
.
“
Where
are
my
clothes
?
”
she
muttered
to
the
serving‐women
who
watched
beside
her
.
“
It
is
broad
day
;
—
I
must
go
on
;
—
to
Paris
.
”
They
craved
her
to
wear
the
costly
and
broidered
stuffs
strewn
about
her
;
masterpieces
of
many
an
eastern
and
southern
loom
;
but
she
put
them
all
aside
in
derision
and
impatience
,
drawing
around
her
with
a
proud
loving
action
the
folds
of
her
own
poor
garments
.
Weather‐stained
,
torn
by
bush
and
briar
,
soaked
with
night
dew
,
and
discoloured
by
the
dye
of
many
a
crushed
flower
and
bruised
berry
of
the
fields
and
woods
,
she
yet
would
not
have
exchanged
these
poor
shreds
of
woven
flax
and
goats’
wool
against
imperial
roves
,
for
poor
though
they
were
,
they
were
the
symbols
of
her
independence
and
her
liberty
.
The
women
tended
her
gently
,
and
pressed
on
her
many
rare
and
fair
things
,
but
she
would
not
have
them
;
she
took
a
cup
of
milk
,
and
passed
out
into
the
larger
chamber
.
She
was
troubled
and
bewildered
,
but
she
had
no
fear
;
for
she
was
too
innocent
,
too
wearied
,
and
too
desperate
with
that
deathless
courage
,
which
having
borne
the
worst
that
fate
can
do
,
can
know
no
dread
.
She
stood
with
her
arms
folded
on
her
breast
,
drawing
together
the
tattered
folds
of
the
tunic
,
gazing
at
the
luxury
,
and
the
blended
colour
of
the
room
.
So
softly
,
that
she
never
heard
his
footfall
,
the
old
man
entered
behind
her
,
and
came
to
the
hearth
,
and
looked
on
her
.
“
You
are
better
?
”
he
asked
.
“
Are
you
better
,
Folle‐Farine
.
”
She
looked
up
,
and
met
the
eyes
of
Sartorian
.
They
smiled
again
on
her
with
the
smile
of
the
Red
Mouse
.
The
one
passion
which
consumed
her
was
stronger
than
any
fear
or
any
other
memory
:
she
only
though
—
this
man
must
know
?
She
sprang
forward
and
grasped
his
arm
with
both
hands
,
with
the
seizure
of
a
tigress
;
her
passionate
eyes
searched
his
face
;
her
voice
came
hard
and
fast
.
“
What
have
you
done
?
—
is
he
living
or
dead
?
—
you
must
know
?
”
His
eyes
still
smiled
:
“
I
gave
him
his
golden
key
;
—
how
he
should
use
it
,
that
was
not
in
our
bond
.
But
,
truly
,
I
will
make
another
bond
with
you
any
day
,
Folle‐Farine
.
”
She
shuddered
,
and
her
hands
dropped
from
their
hold
.
“
You
know
nothing
?
”
she
murmured
.
“
Of
your
Norse‐god
?
nay
,
nothing
.
An
eagle
soars
too
high
for
a
man’s
sight
to
follow
,
you
know
—
oftentimes
.
”
And
he
laughed
his
little
soft
laugh
.
The
eagle
often
soared
so
high
—
so
high
—
that
the
icy
vapours
of
the
empyrean
froze
them
dead
,
and
they
dropped
to
earth
a
mere
,
bruised
,
helpless
,
useless
mass
:
—
he
knew
.
She
stood
stunned
and
confused
:
her
horror
of
Sartorian
was
struggling
into
life
through
the
haze
in
which
all
things
of
the
past
were
still
shrouded
to
her
dulled
remembrance
—
all
things
save
her
love
.
“
Rest
awhile
,
”
he
said
,
gently
.
“
Rest
;
and
we
may
—
who
knows
?
—
learn
something
of
your
northern
god
.
First
;
tell
me
of
yourself
.
I
have
sought
for
tidings
of
you
vainly
.
”
Her
eyes
glanced
round
her
on
every
side
.
“
Let
me
go
,
”
she
muttered
.
“
Nay
—
a
moment
yet
.
You
are
not
well
.
”
“
I
am
well
.
”
“
Indeed
.
Then
wait
a
moment
.
”
She
rested
where
he
motioned
;
he
looked
at
her
in
smiling
wonder
.
She
leaned
on
one
of
the
cushioned
couches
,
calm
,
motionless
,
negligent
,
giving
no
sign
that
she
saw
the
chamber
round
her
to
be
any
other
than
the
wooden
barn
or
thatched
cattle‐sheds
of
the
old
mill‐house
;
her
feet
were
crossed
,
her
limbs
were
folded
in
that
exquisite
repose
which
is
inborn
in
races
of
the
East
;
the
warmth
of
the
room
,
and
the
long
hours
of
sleep
had
brought
the
natural
bloom
to
her
face
,
the
natural
lustre
to
her
eyes
,
which
earlier
fatigue
and
long
illness
had
banished
.
He
surveyed
her
with
that
smile
which
she
had
resented
on
the
day
when
she
had
besought
pity
of
him
for
Arslàn’s
sake
.
“
Do
you
not
eat
?
”
was
all
he
said
.
“
Not
here
.
”
He
laughed
his
low
humorous
laugh
that
displeased
her
so
bitterly
,
though
it
was
soft
of
tone
.
“
And
all
those
silks
,
and
stuffs
,
and
laces
—
do
they
please
you
no
better
?
”
“
They
are
not
mine
.
”
“
Pooh
!
do
you
not
know
yet
?
A
female
thing
,
as
beautiful
as
you
are
,
makes
hers
everything
she
looks
upon
?
”
“
That
is
a
fine
phrase
.
”
“
And
an
empty
one
you
think
.
On
my
soul
!
no.
Everything
you
see
here
is
yours
,
if
it
please
you
.
”
She
looked
at
him
with
dreaming
perplexed
eyes
.
“
What
do
you
want
of
me
?
”
she
said
,
suddenly
.
“
Nay
—
why
ask
?
All
men
are
glad
to
give
to
women
with
such
a
face
as
yours
.
”
She
laughed
a
little
;
with
the
warmth
,
the
rest
,
the
wonder
,
the
vague
sense
of
some
unknown
danger
,
her
old
skill
and
courage
rose
.
She
knew
that
she
had
promised
to
be
grateful
always
to
this
man
;
otherwise
,
—
oh
,
God
!
—
how
she
could
have
hated
him
,
she
thought
!
“
Why
?
”
she
answered
,
“
why
?
Oh
,
only
this
:
when
I
bought
a
measure
of
pears
for
Flamma
in
the
market‐place
,
the
seller
of
them
would
sometimes
pick
me
out
a
big
yellow
bon‐chrétien
,
soft
as
butter
,
sweet
as
sugar
,
and
offer
it
to
me
for
myself
.
Well
,
when
he
did
that
,
I
always
knew
that
the
weight
was
short
,
or
the
fruit
rotten
.
This
is
a
wonderful
pear
you
would
give
me
;
but
is
your
measure
false
?
”
He
looked
at
her
with
a
curious
wonder
and
admiration
;
he
was
angered
,
humbled
,
incensed
,
and
allured
,
and
yet
he
was
glad
;
she
looked
so
handsome
thus
with
the
curl
on
her
quiet
lips
,
and
her
spirited
head
fit
for
a
bronze
cast
of
Atalanta
.
He
was
an
old
man
;
he
could
bear
to
pause
and
rightly
appreciate
the
charm
of
scorn
,
the
spur
of
irony
,
the
goad
of
hatred
.
He
knew
the
full
value
of
its
sharp
spears
to
the
wonder‐blooming
aloe
.
He
left
the
subject
for
a
happier
moment
,
and
seating
himself
,
opened
his
hands
to
warm
them
by
the
wood
fire
,
still
watching
her
with
that
smile
,
which
for
its
very
indulgence
,
its
very
banter
,
she
abhorred
.
“
You
lost
your
Norse‐god
as
I
prophesied
?
”
he
asked
carelessly
.
He
saw
her
whole
face
change
as
with
a
blow
,
and
her
body
bend
within
itself
as
a
young
tree
bends
under
a
storm
.
“
He
went
when
you
gave
him
the
gold
,
”
she
said
below
her
breath
.
“
Of
course
he
went
.
You
would
have
him
set
free
,
”
he
said
,
with
the
little
low
laugh
still
in
his
throat
.
“
Did
I
not
say
you
must
dream
of
nothing
else
if
once
you
had
him
freed
.
You
would
be
full
of
faith
;
and
unbar
your
eagle’s
prison‐house
,
and
then
,
because
he
took
wing
through
the
open‐door
,
you
wonder
still
.
That
is
not
very
wise
,
Folle‐Farine
.
”
“
I
do
not
wonder
,
”
she
said
,
with
fierce
effort
stifling
her
misery
.
“
He
had
a
right
to
do
as
he
would
:
have
I
said
any
otherwise
?
”
“
No.
You
are
very
faithful
still
,
I
see
.
Yet
,
I
cannot
think
that
you
believed
my
prophecy
,
or
you
—
a
woman
had
never
been
so
strong
.
You
think
I
can
tell
you
of
his
fate
?
Nay
,
on
my
soul
I
know
nothing
.
Men
do
not
speak
his
name
.
He
may
be
dead
;
—
you
shrink
?
So
!
can
it
matter
so
much
?
He
is
dead
to
you
.
He
is
a
great
man
,
but
he
is
a
fool
.
Half
his
genius
would
give
him
the
fame
he
wants
with
much
greater
swiftness
than
the
whole
ever
will
.
The
world
likes
talent
,
which
serves
it
.
It
hates
genius
,
which
rules
it
.
Men
would
adore
his
technical
treatment
,
his
pictorial
magnificence
,
his
anatomical
accuracy
;
but
they
will
always
be
in
awe
of
his
intensity
of
meaning
,
of
his
marvellous
fertility
,
of
his
extraordinary
mingling
of
the
chilliest
of
idealism
,
and
the
most
unsparing
of
sensualities
,
—
but
I
talk
idly
.
Let
us
talk
of
you
;
see
,
I
chose
your
likeness
,
and
he
let
me
have
it
—
did
you
dream
that
he
would
part
with
it
so
lightly
?
”
“
Why
not
?
He
had
a
million
things
more
beautiful
?
”
He
looked
at
her
keenly
.
He
could
measure
the
superb
force
of
this
unblenching
and
mute
courage
.
“
In
any
other
creature
such
an
humility
would
be
an
hypocrisy
.
But
it
is
not
so
in
you
.
Why
will
you
carry
yourself
as
in
an
enemy’s
house
?
Will
you
not
even
break
your
fast
with
me
?
Nay
,
that
is
sullen
,
that
is
barbaric
.
Is
there
nothing
that
can
please
you
?
See
here
,
—
all
women
love
these
;
the
gipsy
as
well
as
the
empress
.
Hold
them
a
moment
.
”
She
took
them
;
old
oriental
jewels
lying
loose
in
an
agate
cup
on
a
table
near
;
there
were
amongst
them
three
great
sapphires
,
which
in
their
way
were
priceless
,
from
their
rare
size
and
their
perfect
colour
.
Her
mouth
laughed
with
its
old
scorn
.
She
,
who
had
lost
life
,
soul
,
earth
,
heaven
,
to
be
consoled
with
the
glass
beads
of
a
bauble
!
This
man
seemed
to
her
more
foolish
than
any
creature
that
had
ever
spoken
on
her
ear
.
She
looked
,
then
laid
them
—
indifferently
—
down
.
“
Three
sparrow’s
eggs
are
as
big
and
almost
as
blue
,
among
the
moss
in
any
month
of
May
!
”
He
moved
them
away
,
chagrined
.
“
How
do
you
intend
to
live
?
”
he
asked
drily
.
“
It
will
come
as
it
comes
,
”
she
answered
with
the
fatalism
and
composure
that
ran
in
her
eastern
blood
.
“
What
have
you
done
up
to
this
moment
since
you
left
my
house
at
Rioz
?
”
She
told
him
,
briefly
;
she
wanted
to
hide
that
she
had
suffered
aught
,
or
had
been
in
any
measure
coldly
dealt
with
,
and
she
spoke
with
the
old
force
of
a
happier
time
,
seeking
rather
to
show
how
well
it
was
with
her
that
she
should
thus
be
free
,
and
have
no
law
save
her
own
will
,
and
knew
that
none
lived
who
could
say
to
her
,
“
Come
hither
,
”
or
“
go
there
.
”
Almost
she
duped
him
,
she
was
so
brave
.
Not
quite
.
His
eyes
had
read
the
souls
and
senses
of
women
for
half
a
century
;
and
none
had
ever
deceived
him
.
As
he
listened
to
her
he
knew
well
that
under
her
desolation
and
her
solitude
her
heart
was
broken
—
though
not
her
courage
.
But
he
accepted
her
words
as
she
spoke
them
.
“
Perhaps
you
are
wise
to
take
your
fate
so
lightly
,
”
he
said
to
her
.
“
But
,
do
you
know
that
it
is
a
horrible
thing
to
be
alone
and
penniless
and
adrift
,
and
without
a
home
or
a
friend
,
when
one
is
a
woman
and
young
?
”
“
It
is
worse
when
one
is
a
woman
,
and
old
;
but
who
pities
it
then
?
”
she
said
with
the
curt
and
caustic
meaning
that
had
first
allured
him
in
her
.
“
And
a
woman
is
so
soon
old
!
”
he
added
with
as
subtle
a
significance
.
She
shuddered
a
little
;
no
female
creature
that
is
beautiful
and
vigorous
and
young
can
coldly
brook
to
look
straight
at
the
doom
of
age
;
death
is
far
less
appalling
,
because
death
is
uncertain
,
mystical
,
and
may
still
have
beauty
.
“
What
do
you
intend
to
do
with
yourself
?
”
he
pursued
.
“
Intend
!
It
is
for
the
rich
‘to
intend
,
’
the
poor
must
take
what
chances
.
”
She
spoke
calmly
,
leaning
down
on
one
of
the
cushioned
benches
by
the
hearth
,
resting
her
chin
on
her
hand
;
her
brown
slender
feet
were
crossed
one
over
another
,
her
eye‐lids
were
heavy
from
weakness
and
the
warmth
of
the
room
;
the
soft
dim
light
played
on
her
tenderly
;
he
looked
at
her
with
a
musing
smile
.
“
No
beautiful
woman
need
ever
be
poor
,
”
he
said
,
slowly
spreading
out
the
delicate
palms
of
his
hands
to
the
fire
;
“
and
you
are
beautiful
—
exceedingly
.
”
“
I
know
!
”
she
gave
a
quick
gesture
of
her
head
,
tired
,
insolent
,
indifferent
;
and
a
terrible
darkness
stole
over
her
face
;
what
matter
how
beautiful
she
might
be
,
she
had
no
beauty
in
her
own
sight
,
for
the
eyes
of
Arslàn
had
dwelt
on
her
,
cold
,
calm
,
unmoved
,
whilst
he
had
said
,
“
I
would
love
you
—
if
I
could
.
”
“
You
know
your
value
,
”
Sartorian
said
drily
.
“
Well
then
,
why
talk
of
poverty
and
of
your
future
together
?
they
need
never
be
companions
in
this
world
.
”
She
rose
and
stood
before
him
in
the
rosy
glow
of
the
fire
that
bathed
her
limbs
until
they
glowed
like
jade
and
porphyry
.
“
No
beautiful
woman
need
be
poor
—
no
—
no
beautiful
woman
need
be
honest
,
I
dare
say
.
”
He
smiled
,
holding
his
delicate
palms
to
the
warmth
of
his
hearth
.
“
Your
lover
drew
a
grand
vision
of
Barabbas
.
Well
—
we
choose
Barabbas
still
,
just
as
Jerusalem
chose
;
only
now
,
our
Barabbas
is
most
often
a
woman
.
Why
do
you
rise
?
It
is
a
wet
day
,
out
there
,
and
,
for
the
spring
time
,
cold
.
”
“
Is
it
?
”
“
And
you
have
been
ill
?
”
“
So
they
say
.
”
“
You
will
die
of
cold
and
exposure
.
”
“
So
best
.
”
“
Wait
a
moment
.
In
such
weather
I
would
not
let
a
dog
stir
.
”
“
You
would
if
the
dog
chose
to
go
.
”
“
To
a
master
who
forsook
it
—
for
a
kick
and
a
curse
?
”
Her
face
burned
;
she
hung
her
head
instinctively
.
She
sank
down
again
on
the
seat
which
she
had
quitted
.
The
old
horror
of
shame
which
she
had
felt
by
the
water
side
under
the
orchards
bent
her
strength
under
this
man’s
unmerciful
passion
.
She
knew
that
he
had
her
secret
,
and
the
haughty
passion
and
courage
of
her
nature
writhed
under
his
taunt
of
it
.
“
To
refuse
to
stay
is
uncouth
,
”
he
said
to
her
.
“
I
am
uncouth
,
no
doubt
.
”
“
And
it
is
ungrateful
.
”
“
I
would
not
be
that
.
”
“
Ungrateful
!
I
did
what
you
asked
of
me
.
I
unloosed
your
Othyr
of
Art
to
spend
his
strength
as
he
will
,
in
essaying
to
raise
a
storm
blast
which
shall
have
force
enough
to
echo
through
the
endless
tunnels
of
the
time
to
come
.
”
“
You
gave
him
a
handful
of
gold
pieces
for
that
!
”
“
Ah
!
if
you
thought
that
I
should
offer
him
the
half
of
my
possessions
you
were
disappointed
,
no
doubt
.
But
you
forgot
that
‘that’
would
not
sell
in
the
world
,
as
yet
,
for
a
handful
of
wheat
.
”
She
touched
the
three
sapphires
.
“
Are
your
blue
stones
of
less
worth
,
because
I
,
being
ignorant
,
esteem
them
no
more
value
than
three
sparrows’
eggs
in
the
hedge
?
”
“
My
poor
jewels
!
Well
,
stay
here
to‐night
,
you
need
rest
,
shelter
,
and
warmth
;
and
to‐morrow
you
shall
go
as
poor
as
you
came
,
if
you
wish
.
The
world
is
very
hard
.
The
world
is
always
winter
—
to
the
poor
,
”
he
added
,
carelessly
,
resting
his
keen
far‐reaching
eyes
upon
her
.
Despite
herself
she
shuddered
;
he
recalled
to
her
that
the
world
was
close
at
hand
—
the
world
in
which
she
would
be
houseless
,
friendless
,
penniless
,
alone
.
“
A
hard
world
,
to
those
who
will
not
worship
its
gods
,
”
he
repeated
,
musingly
.
“
And
you
astray
in
it
,
you
poor
barbarian
,
with
your
noble
madness
,
and
your
blindness
of
faith
and
of
passion
.
Do
you
know
what
it
is
to
be
famished
,
and
have
none
to
hear
your
cries
?
”
“
Do
I
know
?
”
her
voice
suddenly
gathered
strength
and
scorn
,
and
rang
loud
on
the
stillness
.
“
Do
you
?
The
empty
dish
,
the
chill
stove
,
the
frozen
feet
,
the
long
nights
,
with
the
roof
dripping
rain
,
the
sour
berries
and
hard
roots
that
mock
hunger
,
the
mud
floors
,
with
the
rats
fighting
to
get
first
at
your
bed
,
the
bitter
black
months
,
whose
saints’
days
are
kept
by
new
pains
,
and
whose
holy
days
are
feasted
by
fresh
diseases
.
Do
I
know
?
Do
you
?
”
He
did
not
answer
her
;
he
was
absorbed
in
his
study
of
her
face
;
he
was
thinking
how
she
would
look
in
Paris
in
some
theatre’s
spectacle
of
Egypt
,
with
anclets
of
dull
gold
and
a
cymar
of
dead
white
,
and
behind
her
a
sea
of
palms
and
a
red
and
sullen
sky
.
“
What
a
fool
he
must
have
been
,
”
he
thought
,
as
his
eyes
went
from
her
to
the
study
of
her
sleeping
in
the
poppies
.
“
What
a
fool
,
he
left
his
lantern
of
Aladdin
behind
him
.
”
“
You
remember
unlovely
things
,
”
he
said
aloud
.
“
No
,
I
do
not
know
them
;
and
I
should
not
have
supposed
that
you
,
who
did
,
could
so
much
have
cared
to
know
them
more
,
or
could
have
clung
to
them
as
the
only
good
;
as
you
now
seem
to
do
.
You
cannot
love
such
hardships
?
”
“
I
have
never
known
luxuries
;
and
I
do
not
wish
to
know
them
.
”
“
Then
you
are
no
woman
,
—
what
is
your
idea
of
the
most
perfect
life
?
”
“
I
do
not
know
—
to
be
always
in
the
open
air
and
to
be
quite
free
,
and
for
ever
to
see
the
sun
.
”
“
Not
a
low
ideal
.
You
must
await
the
Peruvian
Paradise
.
Meanwhile
there
is
a
day
spring
that
represents
the
sun
not
ill
;
we
call
it
Wealth
.
”
“
Ah
!
”
she
could
not
deride
this
god
,
for
she
knew
it
was
the
greatest
of
them
all
;
when
the
rod
of
riches
had
been
lost
,
had
not
the
Far‐Striking
King
himself
been
brought
low
and
bound
down
to
a
slave’s
drudgery
?
The
small
,
keen
,
elfin
,
satiric
face
bent
on
her
did
not
change
from
its
musing
study
,
its
slow
vigilant
smile
;
holding
her
under
the
subtle
influence
of
his
gaze
,
Sartorian
began
to
speak
,
—
speak
as
he
could
at
choice
,
with
accents
sweet
as
silver
,
slow
words
persuasive
as
sorcery
.
With
the
terse
,
dainty
,
facile
touches
of
a
master
,
he
placed
before
her
that
world
of
which
she
knew
no
more
than
any
one
of
the
reeds
that
blew
by
the
sands
of
the
river
.
He
painted
to
her
that
life
of
all
others
,
which
was
in
most
vital
contrast
and
unlikeliness
to
her
own
;
the
life
of
luxury
,
of
indolence
,
of
carelessness
,
of
sovereignty
,
of
endless
pleasure
,
and
supreme
delight
;
he
painted
to
her
the
years
of
a
woman
rich
,
caressed
,
omnipotent
,
beautiful
,
supreme
,
with
all
the
world
before
her
from
which
to
choose
her
lovers
,
her
playthings
,
her
triumphs
,
her
victories
,
her
cruelties
,
and
her
seductions
.
He
painted
the
long
cloudless
invigorating
day
of
such
a
favourite
of
fortune
,
with
its
hours
winged
by
love
and
its
laughter
rhymed
to
music
,
and
its
wishes
set
to
gold
;
the
same
day
for
the
same
woman
,
whether
it
were
called
of
Rome
or
of
Corinth
,
of
Byzantium
or
of
Athens
,
of
Babylon
or
of
Paris
,
and
whether
she
herself
were
hailed
hetaira
or
imperatrix
.
He
drew
such
things
as
the
skill
of
his
words
and
the
deep
knowledge
of
his
many
years
enabled
him
,
in
language
which
aroused
her
even
from
the
absorption
of
her
wretchedness
,
and
stirred
her
dull
disordered
thoughts
to
a
movement
of
restless
discontent
,
and
of
strange
wonder
—
Arslàn
had
never
spoken
to
her
thus
.
He
let
his
words
dwell
silently
on
her
mind
,
awhile
:
then
suddenly
he
asked
her
,
“
Such
lives
are
;
do
you
not
envy
them
?
”
She
thought
—
“
envy
them
?
she
?
what
could
she
envy
save
the
eyes
that
looked
on
Arslàn’s
face
?
”
“
What
were
the
use
?
”
she
said
aloud
;
“
all
my
life
I
have
seen
that
all
things
are
for
others
;
nothing
is
for
me
.
”
“
Your
life
is
but
just
opening
.
Henceforth
you
shall
see
all
things
for
you
,
instead
.
”
She
flashed
her
eyes
upon
him
.
“
How
can
that
be
?
”
“
Listen
to
me
;
you
are
alone
in
the
world
,
Folle‐Farine
?
”
“
Alone
;
yes
.
”
“
You
have
not
a
coin
to
stand
a
day
between
you
and
hunger
?
”
“
Not
one
.
”
“
You
know
of
no
roof
that
will
shelter
you
for
so
much
as
a
night
?
”
“
Not
one
.
”
“
You
have
just
left
a
public
place
of
pestilence
?
”
“
Yes
.
”
“
And
you
know
that
everyone’s
hand
is
against
you
because
you
are
nameless
and
bastard
,
and
come
of
a
proscribed
people
,
who
are
aliens
alike
in
every
land
?
”
“
I
am
Folle‐Farine
;
yes
.
”
For
a
moment
he
was
silent
.
The
simple
,
pathetic
acceptance
of
the
fate
that
made
her
name
—
merely
because
hers
—
a
symbol
of
all
things
despised
,
and
desolate
,
and
forsaken
,
touched
his
heart
and
moved
him
to
a
sorrowful
pity
.
But
the
pity
died
,
and
the
cruelty
remained
alive
behind
it
.
He
bent
on
her
the
magnetic
power
of
his
bright
,
sardonic
,
meaning
eyes
.
“
Well
—
be
Folle‐Farine
still
.
Why
not
?
But
let
Folle‐Farine
mean
no
longer
a
beggar
,
an
outcast
,
a
leper
,
a
thing
attainted
,
proscribed
,
and
for
ever
suspected
;
but
let
it
mean
on
the
ear
of
every
man
that
hears
it
the
name
of
the
most
famous
,
the
most
imperious
,
the
most
triumphant
,
the
most
beautiful
woman
of
her
time
;
a
woman
of
whom
the
world
says
,
‘Look
on
her
face
and
die
—
you
have
lived
enough.’
”
Her
breath
came
and
went
as
she
listened
:
the
blood
in
her
face
flushed
and
paled
;
she
trembled
violently
,
and
her
whole
frame
seemed
to
dilate
and
strengthen
and
vibrate
with
the
electric
force
of
that
subtlest
temptation
.
“
I
!
”
she
murmured
brokenly
.
“
Yes
,
you
.
All
that
I
say
to
you
shall
be
:
homeless
,
tribeless
,
nameless
,
nationless
,
thought
you
stand
there
now
,
Folle‐Farine
.
”
The
wondrous
promise
swept
her
fancy
for
the
moment
on
the
strong
current
of
its
imagery
,
as
a
river
sweeps
a
leaf
.
This
empire
hers
?
—
hers
?
—
when
all
mankind
had
driven
and
derided
her
and
shunned
her
sight
and
touch
,
and
cursed
and
flouted
her
,
and
barely
thought
her
worthy
to
be
called
“
thou
dog
!
”
He
looked
at
her
and
smiled
,
and
bent
towards
the
warmth
of
the
fire
.
“
All
that
I
say
you
shall
be
;
and
—
the
year
is
all
winter
for
the
poor
,
Folle‐Farine
.
”
The
light
on
her
face
faded
;
a
sudden
apprehension
tightened
at
her
heart
;
on
her
face
gathered
the
old
fierce
deadly
antagonism
which
constant
insult
and
attack
had
taught
her
to
assume
on
the
first
instant
of
menace
as
her
only
buckler
.
She
knew
not
what
evil
threatened
;
but
vaguely
she
felt
that
treason
was
close
about
her
.
“
If
you
do
not
mock
me
,
”
she
said
slowly
,
“
if
you
do
not
—
how
will
you
make
me
what
you
promise
?
”
“
I
will
show
the
world
to
you
,
you
to
the
world
;
your
beauty
will
do
the
rest
.
”
The
darkness
and
the
perplexed
trouble
deepened
on
her
face
;
she
rose
and
stood
and
looked
at
him
,
her
teeth
shut
together
with
a
quick
sharp
ring
,
her
straight
proud
brows
drew
together
in
stormy
silence
;
all
the
tigress
in
her
was
awoke
and
rising
ready
to
spring
;
yet
amidst
that
dusky
passion
,
that
withering
scorn
of
doubt
,
there
was
an
innocent
pathetic
wonder
,
a
vague
desolation
and
disappointment
,
that
were
childlike
and
infinitely
sad
.
“
This
is
a
wondrous
pear
you
offer
me
!
”
she
said
bitterly
.
“
And
so
cheap
?
—
it
must
be
rotten
somewhere
.
”
“
It
is
golden
.
Who
need
ask
more
?
”
And
he
laughed
his
little
low
laugh
in
his
throat
.
Then
,
and
then
only
,
she
understood
him
.
With
a
sudden
unconscious
instinctive
action
her
hand
sought
her
knife
,
but
the
girdle
was
empty
;
she
sprang
erect
,
her
face
on
fire
with
a
superb
fury
,
her
eyes
blazing
,
like
the
eyes
of
a
wild
beast’s
by
night
,
a
magnificence
of
scorn
and
rage
upon
her
quivering
features
.
Her
voice
rang
clear
and
hard
and
cold
as
ring
the
blows
of
steel
.
“
I
ask
more
,
—
that
I
should
pluck
it
with
clean
hands
,
and
eat
of
it
with
pure
lips
.
Strange
quibble
for
a
beggar
,
—
homeless
,
penniless
,
tribeless
,
nationless
?
So
you
think
,
no
doubt
.
But
we
who
are
born
outlawed
are
born
free
,
—
and
do
not
sell
our
freedom
.
Let
me
go
.
”
He
watched
her
with
a
musing
smile
,
a
dreamy
calm
content
;
all
this
tempest
of
her
scorn
,
all
this
bitterness
of
her
disdain
,
all
this
whirlwind
of
her
passion
and
her
suffering
,
seemed
but
to
beguile
him
more
and
make
him
surer
of
her
beauty
,
of
her
splendour
,
of
her
strength
.
“
She
would
be
a
great
creature
to
show
to
the
world
,
”
he
thought
,
as
he
drooped
his
head
and
watched
her
through
his
half‐closed
eyelids
,
as
the
Red
Mouse
watched
the
sleeper
in
the
poppies
.
“
Let
you
go
?
”
he
said
with
that
slow
ironic
smile
—
“
let
you
go
?
Why
should
I
let
you
go
—
Folle‐Farine
?
”
“
Why
?
Why
?
To
save
your
own
life
—
if
you
are
wise
.
”
He
laughed
in
his
throat
again
.
“
Ah
,
ah
!
It
is
never
wise
to
threaten
,
Folle‐Farine
.
I
do
not
threaten
.
You
are
foolish
;
you
are
unreasonable
;
and
that
is
the
privilege
of
a
woman
.
I
am
not
angered
at
it
.
On
the
contrary
;
it
adds
to
your
charm
.
You
are
a
beautiful
,
reckless
,
stubborn
,
half
mad
,
half
savage
creature
.
Passion
and
liberty
become
you
,
—
become
you
like
your
ignorance
and
ferocity
.
I
would
not
for
worlds
that
you
should
change
them
.
”
“
Let
me
go
,
”
she
cried
,
across
his
words
.
“
Oh
fool
!
the
winter
will
be
hard
,
—
and
you
are
bare
of
foot
,
—
and
you
have
not
a
crust
!
”
“
Let
me
go
.
”
“
Ah
!
Go
?
—
to
beg
your
way
to
Paris
,
and
to
creep
through
the
cellars
and
the
hospitals
till
you
can
see
your
lover’s
face
,
and
to
crouch
a
moment
at
his
feet
to
hear
him
mutter
a
curse
on
you
in
payment
for
your
pilgrimage
;
and
then
to
slit
your
throat
or
his
—
in
your
despair
,
and
lie
dead
in
all
your
loveliness
in
the
common
ditch
.
”
“
Let
me
go
,
I
say
!
”
“
Or
else
,
more
like
,
come
back
to
me
in
a
week’s
time
and
say
,
‘I
was
made
but
now
I
am
wise
.
Give
me
the
golden
pear
.
What
matter
a
little
speck
?
What
is
golden
may
be
rotten
;
but
to
all
lips
it
is
sweet
.
”
“
Let
me
go
!
”
She
stood
at
bay
before
him
,
pale
in
her
scorn
of
rage
,
her
right
hand
clenched
against
her
breast
,
her
eyes
breathing
fire
,
her
whole
attitude
instinct
with
the
tempest
of
contempt
and
loathing
,
which
she
held
down
thus
,
passive
and
almost
wordless
,
because
she
once
had
promised
never
to
be
thankless
to
this
man
.
He
gazed
at
her
and
smiled
,
and
thought
how
beautiful
that
chained
whirlwind
of
her
passions
looked
;
but
he
did
not
touch
her
nor
even
go
nearer
to
her
.
There
was
a
dangerous
gleam
in
her
eyes
that
daunted
him
.
Moreover
he
was
patient
,
humorous
,
gentle
,
cruel
,
wise
—
all
in
one
;
and
he
desired
to
tame
and
to
beguile
her
,
and
to
see
her
slowly
drawn
into
the
subtle
sweetness
of
the
powers
of
gold
;
and
to
enjoy
the
yielding
of
each
moral
weakness
one
by
one
,
as
the
southern
boy
slowly
pulls
limb
from
limb
,
wing
from
wing
,
of
the
cicada
.
“
I
will
let
you
go
—
surely
,
”
he
said
,
with
his
low
grim
laugh
.
“
I
keep
no
woman
prisoner
against
her
will
.
But
think
one
moment
longer
,
Folle‐Farine
.
You
will
take
no
gift
at
my
hands
?
”
“
None
.
”
“
You
want
to
go
,
—
penniless
as
you
are
?
”
“
I
will
go
so
;
no
other
way
.
”
“
You
will
fall
ill
on
the
road
afresh
.
”
“
That
does
not
concern
you
.
”
“
You
will
starve
.
”
“
That
is
my
question
.
”
“
You
will
have
to
herd
with
the
street
dogs
.
”
“
Their
bite
is
better
than
your
welcome
.
”
“
You
will
be
suspected
,
—
most
likely
imprisoned
.
You
are
an
outcast
.
”
“
That
may
be
.
”
“
You
will
be
driven
to
public
charity
.
”
“
Not
till
I
need
a
public
grave
.
”
“
You
will
have
never
a
glance
of
pity
,
never
a
look
of
softness
,
from
your
northern
god
;
he
has
no
love
for
you
,
and
he
is
in
his
grave
most
likely
.
Icarus
falls
—
always
.
”
For
the
first
time
she
quailed
as
though
struck
by
a
sharp
blow
;
but
her
voice
remained
inflexible
and
serene
.
“
I
can
live
without
love
or
pity
,
as
I
can
without
home
or
gold
.
Once
for
all
,
—
let
me
go
.
”
“
I
will
let
you
go
,
”
he
said
slowly
,
as
he
moved
a
little
away
.
“
I
will
let
you
go
in
seven
days’
time
.
For
seven
days
you
shall
do
as
you
please
;
eat
,
drink
,
be
clothed
,
be
housed
,
be
feasted
,
be
served
,
be
beguiled
—
as
the
rich
are
.
You
shall
taste
all
these
things
that
gold
gives
,
and
which
you
,
being
ignorant
,
dare
rashly
deride
and
refuse
.
If
when
seven
days
end
you
still
choose
,
you
shall
go
,
and
as
poor
as
you
came
.
But
you
will
not
choose
,
for
you
are
woman
,
Folle‐Farine
!
”
Ere
she
knew
his
intent
he
had
moved
the
panel
and
drawn
it
behind
him
,
and
left
her
alone
,
—
shut
in
a
trap
like
the
birds
that
Claudis
Flamma
had
netted
in
his
orchards
.
That
night
,
when
the
night
without
was
quite
dark
,
she
knelt
down
before
the
study
of
the
poppies
,
and
kissed
it
softly
,
and
prayed
to
the
unknown
God
,
of
whom
none
had
taught
her
in
anywise
,
yet
whose
light
she
still
had
found
,
and
followed
in
a
dim
wondering
imperfect
fashion
,
as
a
little
child
lost
in
the
twilight
of
some
pathless
wood
,
pursues
in
trembling
the
gleam
of
some
great
still
planet
looming
far
above
her
through
the
leaves
.
When
she
arose
from
her
supplication
,
her
choice
was
already
made
.
And
the
Red
Mouse
had
no
power
on
her
,
because
of
her
great
love
.
CHAPTER
IV
.
AT
sunrise
a
great
peacock
trailing
his
imperial
purple
on
the
edge
of
a
smooth
lawn
,
pecked
angrily
at
a
torn
fragment
of
a
scarlet
scarf
;
a
scarf
that
had
been
woven
in
his
own
eastern
lands
,
but
which
incensed
his
sight
,
fluttering
there
so
idly
,
as
it
seemed
,
on
the
feathery
sprays
of
a
little
low
almond
tree
that
grew
by
the
water’s
edge
.
The
water
was
broad
,
and
full
of
lily
leaves
and
of
rare
reeds
and
rushes
;
it
had
been
so
stemmed
and
turned
by
art
that
it
washed
the
basement
walls
and
mirrored
the
graceful
galleries
and
arches
of
the
garden
palace
,
where
the
birds
of
Hêrê
dwelt
.
Twenty
feet
above
the
level
of
the
gardens
,
where
the
peacock
swept
in
the
light
,
there
was
an
open
casement
,
a
narrow
balcony
of
stone
;
a
group
of
pale
human
faces
looking
out
awe‐stricken
.
A
leap
in
the
night
—
the
night
wet
and
moonless
,
—
waters
a
fathom
deep
,
—
a
bed
of
sand
treacherous
and
shifting
as
the
ways
of
love
.
What
could
all
these
be
save
certain
death
?
Of
death
they
were
afraid
;
but
they
were
more
afraid
yet
of
the
vengeance
of
their
flute‐voiced
lord
.
On
the
wall
the
Red
Mouse
sat
amongst
the
flowers
of
sleep
;
he
could
have
told
;
he
who
for
once
had
heard
another
prayer
than
the
blasphemies
of
the
Brocken
.
But
the
Red
Mouse
never
tells
any
secret
to
men
;
he
has
lived
too
long
in
the
breast
of
the
women
whom
men
love
.
The
sun
came
from
the
east
,
and
passed
through
the
pale
stricken
faces
that
watched
from
the
casement
,
and
came
straight
to
where
the
Red
Mouse
sat
amidst
the
poppies
.
“
Have
you
let
a
female
soul
escape
you
?
”
said
the
Sun
.
The
Red
Mouse
answered
:
“
Love
is
stronger
than
I
.
When
he
keeps
his
hands
pure
,
where
he
guards
the
door
of
the
soul
,
I
enter
not
.
I
sit
outside
and
watch
,
and
watch
,
and
watch
.
But
it
is
time
lost
.
Love
is
strong
;
the
door
is
barred
to
me
.
”
Said
the
Sun
,
“
That
is
strange
to
hear
.
My
sister
,
the
Moon
,
has
told
me
oftentimes
that
Eros
is
your
pander
—
always
.
”
“
Anteros
only
,
”
said
the
Red
Mouse
.
The
Sun
,
wondering
,
said
again
:
“
And
yet
I
have
heard
that
it
is
your
boast
that
into
every
female
soul
you
enter
at
birth
,
and
dwell
there
unto
death
.
Is
it
,
then
,
not
so
?
”
The
Red
Mouse
answered
:
“
The
boast
is
not
mine
,
it
is
man’s
.
”
CHAPTER
V.
IN
the
dark
of
night
she
had
leapt
to
what
,
as
she
thought
,
would
prove
her
grave
;
but
the
waters
with
human‐like
caprice
had
cast
her
back
upon
the
land
with
scarce
an
effort
of
her
own
.
Given
back
thus
to
life
,
whether
she
would
or
no
,
she
by
sheer
instinct
stumbled
to
her
feet
and
fled
as
fast
as
she
could
in
the
wet
gloomy
night
through
the
grassy
stretches
of
the
unknown
gardens
and
lands
in
which
she
found
herself
.
She
was
weighted
with
her
soaked
clothes
as
with
lead
,
but
she
was
made
swift
by
terror
and
hatred
,
as
though
Hermes
for
once
had
had
pity
for
anything
human
,
and
had
fastened
to
her
feet
his
own
winged
sandals
.
She
ran
on
and
on
,
not
knowing
whither
;
only
knowing
that
she
ran
from
the
man
who
had
tempted
her
by
the
strength
of
the
rod
of
wealth
.
The
rains
were
ceaseless
,
the
skies
had
no
stars
,
in
the
dense
mist
no
lights
,
far
or
near
,
of
city
or
planets
,
of
palace
or
house
,
were
seen
.
She
did
not
know
where
she
went
;
she
only
ran
on
away
and
away
,
anywhere
,
from
the
Red
Mouse
and
its
master
.
When
the
daybreak
grew
grey
in
the
heavens
,
she
paused
,
and
trembling
crept
into
a
cattle
shed
to
rest
and
take
breath
a
little
.
She
shrank
from
every
habitation
,
she
quivered
at
every
human
voice
;
she
was
afraid
—
horribly
afraid
—
in
those
clinging
vapours
,
those
damp
deathly
smells
,
those
ghostly
shadows
of
the
dawn
,
those
indistinct
and
unfamiliar
creatures
of
a
country
strange
to
her
.
That
old
man
with
the
elf’s
eyes
,
who
had
tempted
her
,
was
he
a
god
too
,
she
wondered
,
since
he
had
the
rod
that
metes
power
and
wealth
?
He
might
stretch
his
hand
anywhere
,
she
supposed
,
and
take
her
.
The
gentle
cattle
in
their
wooden
home
made
way
for
her
,
and
humbly
welcomed
her
.
She
hid
herself
amongst
their
beds
of
hay
,
and
in
the
warmth
of
their
breath
and
their
bodies
.
She
was
wet
and
wretched
,
like
any
half
drowned
dog
;
but
the
habits
of
her
hardy
life
made
cold
and
hunger
and
exposure
almost
powerless
to
harm
her
.
She
slept
from
sheer
exhaustion
of
mind
and
body
.
The
cattle
could
have
trodden
her
to
death
,
or
tossed
her
through
the
open
spaces
of
their
byres
,
but
they
seemed
to
know
,
they
seemed
to
pity
;
and
they
stirred
so
that
they
did
not
brush
a
limb
of
her
,
nor
shorten
a
moment
of
her
slumbers
.
When
she
awoke
the
sun
was
high
.
A
herdswoman
,
entering
with
the
loud
harsh
clash
of
brazen
pails
,
kicked
her
in
the
loins
,
and
rated
her
furiously
for
daring
to
rest
there
.
She
arose
at
the
kick
,
and
went
out
from
the
place
passively
,
not
well
knowing
what
she
did
.
The
morning
was
warm
and
radiant
;
the
earth
and
the
trees
were
dripping
with
the
rains
of
the
night
;
the
air
was
full
of
sweet
odours
,
and
of
a
delicious
coldness
.
As
far
as
she
saw
there
was
no
token
far
or
near
of
the
gleaming
cloud
of
the
city
of
her
dreams
.
She
ventured
to
ask
at
a
wayside
cabin
is
she
were
near
or
far
to
Paris
?
The
woman
of
the
cottage
looked
up
searchingly
from
the
seat
before
the
porch
,
and
for
answer
cried
to
her
:
“
Paris
!
pouf‐f‐f
!
get
out
,
you
drowned
rat
.
”
She
had
lost
for
the
time
the
mental
force
,
and
even
the
physical
force
,
to
resent
or
to
persevere
;
she
was
weak
with
hunger
and
bewildered
with
her
misery
.
She
had
only
sense
enough
left
to
remember
—
and
be
thankful
—
that
in
the
night
that
was
past
she
had
been
strong
.
The
sun
beat
on
her
head
,
the
road
was
hard
,
and
sharp
set
with
flint
;
she
was
full
of
pain
,
her
brain
throbbed
with
fever
and
reeled
with
weakness
;
a
sudden
horror
seized
her
lest
she
might
die
before
she
had
looked
again
on
the
face
of
Arslàn
.
She
saw
the
dusky
shade
of
a
green
wood
;
by
sheer
instinct
she
crept
into
it
as
a
stricken
deer
into
its
sanctuary
.
She
sat
in
the
darkness
of
the
trees
in
the
coolness
of
the
wood
,
and
rested
her
head
on
her
hands
,
and
let
the
big
salt
tears
drop
one
by
one
,
as
the
death
tears
of
the
llama
fall
.
This
was
the
young
year
round
her
;
that
she
knew
.
The
winter
had
gone
by
;
its
many
months
had
passed
over
her
head
whilst
she
was
senseless
to
any
flight
of
night
or
day
;
death
might
have
taken
the
prey
which
it
had
once
been
robbed
of
by
her
;
in
all
this
weary
season
,
which
to
her
was
as
a
blank
,
his
old
foes
of
failure
and
famine
might
have
struggled
for
and
vanquished
him
,
she
not
being
by
;
his
body
might
lie
in
any
plague‐ditch
of
the
blameless
poor
,
his
hand
might
rot
fleshless
and
nerveless
in
any
pit
where
the
world
cast
its
useless
and
dishonoured
dead
;
the
mould
of
his
brain
might
make
a
feast
for
eyeless
worms
,
not
more
stone
blind
that
was
the
human
race
he
had
essayed
to
serve
;
the
beauty
of
his
face
might
be
a
thing
of
loathsomeness
from
which
a
toad
would
turn
.
Oh
,
God
!
would
death
never
take
her
likewise
?
Was
she
an
outcast
even
from
that
one
tribeless
and
uncounted
nation
of
the
dead
?
That
God
whom
she
had
loved
,
whom
she
had
chosen
,
whose
eyes
had
been
so
full
of
pity
,
whose
voice
had
murmured
:
“
Nay
,
the
wise
know
me
as
man’s
only
friend
”
:
—
even
he
,
Thanatos
,
had
turned
against
her
and
abandoned
her
.
Vague
memories
of
things
which
she
had
heard
in
fable
and
tradition
,
of
bodies
accursed
and
condemned
to
wander
for
ever
unresting
and
wailing
of
spirits
,
which
for
their
curse
were
imprisoned
in
a
living
flesh
that
they
could
neither
lose
nor
cast
away
so
long
as
the
world
itself
endured
;
creatures
that
the
very
elements
had
denied
,
and
that
were
too
vile
for
fire
to
burn
,
or
water
to
drown
,
or
steel
to
slay
,
or
old
age
to
wither
,
or
death
to
touch
and
take
in
any
wise
.
All
these
memories
returned
to
her
,
and
in
her
loneliness
she
wondered
if
she
were
such
an
one
as
these
.
She
did
not
know
,
indeed
,
that
she
had
done
any
great
sin
;
she
had
done
none
willingly
,
and
yet
all
people
called
her
vile
,
and
they
must
know
?
Even
the
old
man
,
mocking
her
,
had
said
:
“
Never
wrestle
with
Fate
.
He
throws
the
strongest
,
soon
or
late
.
And
your
fate
is
shame
;
it
was
your
birth
gift
,
it
will
be
your
burial
cloth
.
Can
you
cast
if
off
?
No.
But
you
can
make
it
potent
as
gold
,
and
sweet
as
honey
if
you
choose
,
Folle‐Farine
.
”
And
she
had
not
chosen
;
yet
of
any
nobility
in
the
resistance
she
did
not
dream
.
She
had
shut
her
heart
to
it
by
the
unconscious
instinct
of
strength
,
as
she
had
shut
her
lips
under
torture
,
and
shut
her
hand
against
gold
.
She
sat
there
in
the
wood
,
roofless
,
penniless
,
friendless
,
and
every
human
creature
was
against
her
.
Her
temper
had
spoken
only
the
bare
and
bleak
truth
.
A
dog
stoned
and
chased
and
mad
could
be
the
only
living
thing
on
the
face
of
the
earth
more
wretched
and
more
desolate
than
herself
.
The
sun
of
noon
was
bright
above
head
in
a
cloudless
sky
,
but
in
the
little
wood
it
was
cool
and
shady
,
and
had
the
moisture
of
a
heavy
morning
dew
.
Millions
of
young
leaves
had
uncurled
themselves
in
the
warmth
.
Little
butterflies
,
some
azure
,
some
yellow
,
some
white
,
danced
in
the
light
.
Brown
rills
of
water
murmured
under
the
grasses
,
the
thrushes
sang
to
one
another
through
the
boughs
,
and
the
lizard
darted
hither
and
thither
,
green
as
the
arrowy
leaves
that
made
its
shelter
.
A
little
distance
from
her
there
was
a
group
of
joyous
singers
who
looked
at
her
from
time
to
time
,
their
laughter
hushing
a
little
,
and
their
simple
carousal
under
the
green
boughs
broken
by
a
nameless
chilliness
and
involuntary
speculation
.
She
did
not
note
them
,
her
face
being
bowed
down
upon
her
hands
,
and
no
sound
of
the
thrushes’
song
or
of
the
human
singers’
voices
rousing
her
from
the
stupefaction
of
despair
which
drugged
her
senses
.
They
watched
her
long
;
her
attitude
did
not
change
.
One
of
them
at
length
rose
up
and
went
hesitating
a
step
or
two
forwards
;
a
girl
with
twinkling
feet
,
clad
gaily
in
bright
colours
,
though
the
texture
of
her
clothes
was
poor
.
She
went
and
touched
the
crouched
sad
figure
,
softly
.
“
Are
you
in
trouble
?
”
The
figure
lifted
its
bowed
head
,
its
dark
hopeless
eyes
.
“
It
is
no
matter
,
I
am
only
—
tired
.
”
“
Are
you
all
alone
?
”
“
Yes
.
”
“
Come
and
sit
with
us
a
moment
.
You
are
in
the
damp
and
the
gloom
;
we
are
so
pleasant
and
sunny
there
.
Come
.
”
“
You
are
good
,
but
let
me
be
.
”
The
blue‐eyed
girl
called
to
the
others
.
They
lazily
rose
and
came
.
“
Heaven
!
she
is
handsome
!
”
the
men
muttered
to
one
another
.
She
looked
straight
at
them
all
,
and
let
them
be
.
“
You
are
all
alone
?
”
they
asked
her
again
.
“
Always
,
”
she
answered
them
.
“
You
are
going
—
where
?
”
“
To
Paris
.
”
“
What
to
do
there
?
”
“
I
do
not
know
.
”
“
You
look
wet
—
suffering
—
what
is
the
matter
?
”
“
I
was
nearly
drowned
last
night
—
an
accident
—
it
is
nothing
.
”
“
Where
have
you
slept
?
”
“
In
a
shed
:
with
some
cattle
.
”
“
Could
yo
get
no
shelter
in
a
house
?
”
“
I
did
not
seek
any
.
”
“
What
do
you
do
?
What
is
your
work
?
”
“
Anything
—
Nothing
.
”
“
What
is
your
name
?
”
“
Folle‐Farine
.
”
“
That
means
the
chaff
;
—
less
than
the
chaff
;
—
the
dust
.
”
“
It
means
me
.
”
“
They
were
silent
,
only
bending
on
her
their
bright
curious
eyes
.
They
saw
that
she
was
unspeakably
wretched
;
that
some
great
woe
or
shock
had
recently
fallen
on
her
,
and
given
her
glance
that
startled
horror
and
blanched
her
rich
skin
to
an
ashen
pallor
,
and
frozen
,
as
it
were
,
the
very
current
of
the
young
blood
in
her
veins
.
They
were
silent
a
little
space
.
Then
whispered
together
.
“
Come
with
us
,
”
they
urged
.
“
We
too
go
to
Paris
.
We
are
poor
.
We
follow
art
.
We
will
befriend
you
.
”
She
was
deaf
to
them
long
;
being
timid
and
wild
of
every
human
thing
.
But
they
were
urgent
;
they
were
eloquent
;
these
young
girls
with
their
bright
eyes
;
these
men
who
spoke
of
art
;
these
wanderers
who
went
to
the
great
city
.
In
the
end
they
pressed
on
her
their
companionship
.
They
too
were
going
to
Paris
;
they
spoke
of
perils
she
would
run
,
of
vouchers
she
would
need
:
she
wondered
at
their
charity
,
but
in
the
end
walked
on
with
them
—
fearing
the
Red
Mouse
.
They
were
mirthful
gentle
people
,
so
she
thought
;
they
said
they
followed
art
;
they
told
her
she
could
never
enter
Paris
nameless
and
alone
:
so
she
went
.
The
chief
of
the
little
troop
watched
wonderingly
her
step
,
her
posture
,
her
barbaric
and
lustrous
beauty
,
brilliant
still
even
through
the
pallor
of
grief
and
the
weariness
of
fatigue
;
of
these
he
had
never
seen
the
like
before
and
he
knew
their
almost
priceless
value
in
the
world
,
and
of
the
working
classes
and
street
mobs
of
Paris
.
“
Listen
,
”
he
said
suddenly
to
her
.
“
We
shall
play
to‐night
at
the
next
town
.
Will
you
take
a
part
?
”
Walking
along
through
the
glades
of
the
wood
,
lost
in
thought
,
she
started
at
his
voice
.
“
I
do
not
know
what
you
mean
?
”
“
I
mean
—
will
you
share
yourself
with
us
?
We
will
give
you
no
words
.
It
will
be
quite
easy
.
What
money
we
make
we
divide
amongst
us
.
All
you
shall
do
shall
be
to
stand
and
be
looked
at
—
you
are
beautiful
and
you
know
it
,
no
doubt
?
”
She
made
a
weary
sign
of
assent
.
Beautiful
?
What
could
it
matter
if
she
were
so
,
or
if
she
were
not
,
what
these
men
thought
of
it
?
The
beauty
that
she
owned
,
though
so
late
a
precious
possession
,
a
crown
of
glory
to
her
,
had
lost
all
its
fairness
and
all
its
wonder
since
it
had
been
strengthless
to
bind
to
hers
,
the
only
heart
in
which
she
cared
to
rouse
a
throb
of
passion
,
since
it
had
been
unworthy
to
draw
upon
it
with
any
lingering
gaze
of
love
the
eyes
of
Arslàn
.
He
looked
at
her
more
closely
;
this
was
a
strange
creature
,
he
thought
,
who
being
a
woman
and
in
her
first
youth
could
thus
acknowledge
her
own
loveliness
with
so
much
candour
,
yet
so
much
indifference
.
That
afternoon
they
halted
at
a
little
town
that
stood
in
a
dell
across
the
fields
,
a
small
place
lying
close
about
a
great
church
tower
.
It
was
almost
dusk
when
they
entered
it
;
but
it
was
all
alive
with
lights
and
shows
,
and
trumpets
and
banners
;
it
was
the
day
of
a
great
fair
,
and
the
merry‐go‐rounds
were
whirling
,
and
the
trades
in
gilded
cakes
and
puppets
of
sugar
were
thriving
fast
,
and
the
narrow
streets
were
full
of
a
happy
and
noisy
peasant
crowd
.
As
soon
as
the
little
troop
entered
the
first
street
a
glad
cry
rose
.
They
were
well
known
and
well
liked
there
;
the
people
clustered
by
dozens
round
them
,
the
women
greeting
them
with
kisses
,
the
children
hugging
the
dogs
,
the
men
clamouring
with
invitations
to
eat
and
to
drink
and
be
merry
.
They
bade
her
watch
them
at
their
art
in
a
rough
wooden
house
outside
the
wine
tavern
.
She
stood
in
the
shadow
and
looked
as
they
bade
her
,
while
the
mimic
life
of
their
little
stage
began
and
lived
its
hour
.
To
the
mind
which
had
received
its
first
instincts
of
art
from
the
cold
,
lofty
passionless
creations
of
Arslàn
,
from
the
classic
purity
and
from
the
divine
conception
of
the
old
Hellenic
ideal
,
the
art
of
the
comic
stage
could
seem
but
poor
and
idle
mimicry
;
gaudy
and
fragrantless
as
any
painted
rose
of
paper
blossoming
on
a
tinselled
stem
.
The
crystal
truthlessness
,
the
barbaric
liberty
,
the
pure
idealism
of
her
mind
and
temper
revolted
in
contempt
from
the
visible
presentment
and
the
vari‐coloured
harlequinade
of
the
comic
actor’s
art
.
To
her
,
a
note
of
song
,
a
gleam
of
light
,
a
shadowy
shape
,
a
veiled
word
,
were
enough
to
unfold
to
her
passionate
fancy
a
world
of
dreams
,
a
paradise
of
faith
and
of
desire
;
and
for
this
very
cause
she
shrank
away
,
in
amazement
an
disgust
,
from
this
realistic
mockery
of
mere
humanity
,
which
left
nothing
for
the
imagination
to
create
,
which
spoke
no
other
tongue
than
the
common
language
of
human
quips
and
jests
.
It
could
not
touch
her
,
it
could
not
move
her
;
it
filled
her
,
—
so
far
as
she
could
bring
herself
to
think
of
it
at
all
,
—
with
a
cold
and
wondering
contempt
.
“
That
is
your
art
?
”
she
said
wearily
to
the
actors
when
they
came
to
her
.
“
Well
,
is
it
not
art
;
and
a
noble
one
?
”
A
scornful
shadow
swept
across
her
face
.
“
It
is
no
art
.
It
is
human
always
.
It
is
never
divine
.
There
is
neither
heaven
nor
hell
in
it
.
It
is
all
earth
.
”
They
were
sharply
stung
.
“
What
has
given
you
such
thoughts
as
that
?
”
they
said
,
in
their
impatience
and
mortification
.
“
I
have
seen
great
things
,
”
she
said
simply
,
and
turned
away
and
went
out
into
the
darkness
,
and
wept
,
—
alone
.
She
who
had
knelt
at
the
feet
of
Thanatos
,
and
who
had
heard
the
songs
of
Pan
amidst
the
rushes
by
the
river
,
and
had
listened
to
the
charmed
steps
of
Persephone
amidst
the
flowers
of
the
summer
;
—
could
she
honour
lesser
gods
than
these
?
“
They
may
forget
—
they
may
forsake
,
and
he
likewise
,
but
I
never
,
”
she
thought
.
If
only
she
might
live
a
little
longer
space
to
serve
and
suffer
for
them
and
for
him
still
;
of
fate
she
asked
nothing
higher
.
That
night
there
was
much
money
in
the
bag
.
The
players
pressed
a
share
upon
her
;
but
she
refused
.
“
Have
I
begged
from
you
?
”
she
said
.
“
I
have
earned
nothing
.
”
It
was
with
exceeding
difficulty
that
they
ended
in
persuading
her
even
to
share
their
simple
supper
.
She
took
only
bread
and
water
,
and
sat
and
watched
them
curiously
.
The
players
were
in
high
spirits
;
their
chief
ordered
a
stoup
of
bright
wine
,
and
made
merry
over
it
with
gayer
songs
and
louder
laughter
,
and
more
frequent
jests
than
even
were
his
wont
.
The
men
and
women
of
the
town
came
in
and
out
with
merry
interchange
of
words
.
The
youths
of
the
little
bourg
chattered
light
amorous
nonsense
;
the
young
girls
smiled
and
chattered
in
answer
;
whilst
the
actors
bantered
them
and
made
them
a
hundred
love
prophecies
.
Now
and
then
a
dog
trotted
in
to
salute
the
players’
poodles
;
now
and
then
the
quaint
face
of
a
pig
looked
through
the
legs
of
its
master
.
The
door
stood
open
;
the
balmy
air
blew
in
;
beyond
,
the
stars
shone
in
a
cloudless
sky
.
She
sat
without
