There, bending over, framed in a
mist of blue-black waves, he saw his lady's face. Its milky whiteness lit
by her strange eyes--green as cats' they seemed, and blazing with the
fiercest passion of love--while twisted round his throat he felt a great
strand of her splendid hair. The wildest thrill as yet his life had known
then came to Paul; he clasped her in his arms with a frenzy of mad,
passionate joy.
CHAPTER XI
The next day was Sunday, and even through the silk blinds they could hear
the rain drip in monotonous fashion. Of what use to wake? Sleep is
blissful and calm when the loved one is near.
Thus it was late when Paul at last opened his eyes. He found himself
alone, and heard his lady's voice singing softly from the sitting-room
beyond, and through the open door he could perceive her stretched on the
tiger, already dressed, reclining among the silk pillows, her guitar held
in her hands.
"Hasten, hasten, lazy one. Thy breakfast awaits thee," she called, and
Paul bounded up without further delay.
This day was to be a day of books, she said, and she read poetry to him,
and made him read to her--but she would not permit him to sit too near
her, or caress her--and often she was restless and moved about with the
undulating grace of a cat.
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