He was indeed a splendid picture of youth and strength, as
he stood there, the sunlight gilding his fair hair, and all the
magnificent proportions of his figure thrown into relief against the
background of grey stone and sky, an _insouciante_ smile on his lips, and
all the light of love and self-confidence in his fine blue eyes.
She responded to the fire in them, and appeared to grow comforted and at
peace. But all the way back through the wood to the Kalibad Hotel she
glanced furtively into the shadows, while she talked gaily as she held
Paul's arm.
And he never asked her a question as to where she expected the danger to
come from. No anxiety for his own safety troubled him one jot--indeed, an
unwonted extra excitement flooded his veins, making him enjoy himself with
an added zest.
Dmitry as usual awaited them at the hotel; his face was serene, but when
Paul's back was turned for a moment while he lit a cigarette, the lady
questioned her servant with whispered fierceness in the Russian tongue.
Apparently his answer was satisfactory, for she looked relieved, and
presently, seated on the terrace, they had a merry tea--the last they
would have on mountain tops, for she broke it gently to Paul that on the
morrow she must return to Lucerne. Paul felt as if his heart had stopped
beating.
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