That is a sadness, Paul,
perhaps the greatest of all, to see a soul one has illuminated and
awakened to the highest point gradually slipping back to a browsing sheep,
to live for _la chasse_ alone, and horses, and dogs, with each day no
higher aim than its own mean pleasure. Ah, Paul!" she continued with
sudden passion, "I would rather you were dead--dead and cold with me, than
I should have to feel you were growing a _rien du tout_--a thing who will
go down into nothingness, and be forgotten by men!"
Her face was aflame with the _feu sacre_. The noble brow and line of her
throat will ever remain in Paul's memory as a thing apart in womankind.
Who could have small or unworthy thoughts who had known her--this splendid
lady?
And his worship grew and grew.
CHAPTER XVII
That night, as they looked from the loggia on the Grand Canal after
dinner, the moonlight making things almost light as day, Dmitry begged
admittance from the doorway of the great salon. The lady turned
imperiously, and flashed upon him. How dared he interrupt their happy hour
with things of earth? Then she saw he was loth to speak before Paul, and
that his face was grey with fear.
Paul realised the situation, and moved aside, pretending to lean from the
wide windows and watch the passing gondolas, his wandering attention,
however, fixing itself upon one which was moored not far from the palazzo,
and occupied by a solitary figure reclining motionless in the seats.
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