Hungry and strong and--young.
Paul and his lady stood and looked down in rapt silence. It was giving
her, as she said, an emotion, but of what sort he was not sure. They were
all alone. No living soul was anywhere in view.
She had been in a mood, all day when she seldom raised her eyes. It
reminded him of the first time he had seen her, and wonder grew again in
his mind. All the last night her soul had seemed melted into his in a
fusion of tenderness and trust, exalted with the exquisite thought of the
wish which was between them. And he had felt at last he had fathomed its
inmost recess.
But to-day, as he gazed down at her white-rose paleness, the heavy lashes
making their violet shadow on her cheek--her red mouth mutinous and
full--the conviction came back to him that there were breadths and depths
and heights about which he had no conception even. And an ice hand
clutched his heart. Of what strange thing was she thinking? leaning over
the parapet there, her delicate nostrils quivering now and then.
"Paul," she said at last, "did you ever want to kill any one? Did you ever
long to have them there at your mercy, to choke their life out and throw
them to hell?"
"Good God, no!" said Paul aghast.
Then at last she looked up at him, and her eyes were black with hate.
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