Oh! their _entr'actes_ between the incoherence of just lovers' love were
not banal or dull. And never she forgot her tender ways of insinuated
caresses--small exquisite touches of sentiment and grace. The note ever of
One--that they were fused and melted together into one body and soul.
Through all her talk that night Paul caught glimpses of the life of a
great lady, surrounded with state and cares, and now and then there was a
savage echo which made him think of things barbaric, and wonder more than
ever from whence she had come.
It was quite late before the chill of night airs drove them into their
salon, and here she made him some Russian tea, and then lay in his arms,
and purred love-words to him, and nestled close like a child who wants
petting to cure it of some imaginary hurt. Only, in her tenderest caresses
he seemed at last to feel something of danger. A slumbering look of
passion far under the calm exterior, but ready to break forth at any
moment from its studied control.
It thrilled and maddened him.
"Beloved, beloved!" he cried, "let us waste no more precious moments. I
want you--I want you--my sweet!"
* * * * *
At the first glow of dawn, he awoke, a strange sensation, almost of
strangling and suffocation, upon him.
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