"
He kept his voice equably low. It was a lonely spot and but for a
vague shape of a dwarf tree here and there we had only the flying
clouds for company. Very far off a tiny light twinkled a little
way up the seaward shoulder of an invisible mountain. Dominic
moved on.
"Fancy yourself lying here, on this wild spot, with a leg smashed
by a shot or perhaps with a bullet in your side. It might happen.
A star might fall. I have watched stars falling in scores on clear
nights in the Atlantic. And it was nothing. The flash of a pinch
of gunpowder in your face may be a bigger matter. Yet somehow it's
pleasant as we stumble in the dark to think of our Senora in that
long room with a shiny floor and all that lot of glass at the end,
sitting on that divan, you call it, covered with carpets as if
expecting a king indeed. And very still . . ."
He remembered her--whose image could not be dismissed.
I laid my hand on his shoulder.
"That light on the mountain side flickers exceedingly, Dominic.
Are we in the path?"
He addressed me then in French, which was between us the language
of more formal moments.
"Prenez mon bras, monsieur. Take a firm hold, or I will have you
stumbling again and falling into one of those beastly holes, with a
good chance to crack your head.
Pages:
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184