Paul had never seen one as red before.
The whole picture was barbaric. It might have been some painter's
dream of the Favourite in a harem. It was not what one would expect to
find in a sedate Swiss hotel.
She did not stir as he stepped in, dropping the heavy curtains after
him. She merely raised her eyes, and looked Paul through and through.
Her whole expression was changed; it was wicked and dangerous and
_provocante_. It seemed quite true, as she had said--she was
evidently in the devil's mood.
Paul bounded forward, but she raised one hand to stop him.
"No! you must not come near me, Paul. I am not safe to-day. Not
yet. See, you must sit there and we will talk."
And she pointed to a great chair of Venetian workmanship and wonderful
old velvet which was new to his view.
"I bought that chair in the town this morning at the curiosity shop on
the top of Weggisstrasse, which long ago was the home of the Venetian
envoy here--and you bought me the tiger, Paul. Ah! that was good. My
beautiful tiger!" And she gave a movement like a snake, of joy to feel
its fur under her, while she stretched out her hands and caressed the
creature where the hair turned white and black at the side, and was
deep and soft.
"Beautiful one! beautiful one!" she purred.
Pages:
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70