Give me your staff. But what are you doing here?” “Old Père Runeval met me on your doorstep, and he would not let me go. The coolies proceeded at a swinging, mincing trot, which gave to the suspended seat a dancing action similar to that of a suddenly agitated hangingspring of a birdcage. But you,” he continued, moving imperceptibility a little nearer to her, “you are mine. Her body went into spasm. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. And there was another matter. Gerald smiled and crooked his elbow. Wanton! Had I been one, even God would have forgiven me, understanding. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips.
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