She led his
thoughts into new channels--made him observe the trees and sky, and
the wonderful beauty of it all, and with lightning flashes took him
into unknown speculations on emotions and the meaning of things.
A new existence seemed to open to Paul's view. And all the while she
lay back in her chair almost motionless, only her wonderful eyes lit
up the strange whiteness of her face. There was not a touch of
_mauvaise honte_, or explanation of the unusualness of this
situation in her manner. It had a perfect, quiet dignity, as if to
look into the eyes of an unknown young man at night over an ivy
terrace, and then spend a day with him alone, were the most natural
things in the world to do.
Paul felt she was a queen whose actions must be left unquestioned.
Presently they came to a small village, and here she would land and
lunch. And from somewhere behind the cabin Dmitry appeared, and was
sent on ahead, so that when they walked into the little hotel a simple
repast was waiting for them.
By this time Paul was absolutely enthralled. Never in his whole life
had he spent such a morning. His imagination was expanded. He saw new
vistas. His brain almost whirled. Was it he--Paul Verdayne--who was
seated opposite this divine woman, drinking in her voice, and
listening to her subtle curious thoughts?
And what were the commonplace, ordinary things which had hitherto
occupied his mind? How had he ever wasted a moment on them?
It was his first awakening.
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