The girl shuddered. The characteristic
harmoniousness of her face became, as it were, decomposed for an
instant. Heyst was startled.
"Why think of it now?" he cried.
"It's because I was cornered that time. It wasn't as before. It was
worse, ever so much. I wished I could die of my fright--and yet it's
only now that I begin to understand what a horror it might have been.
Yes, only now, since we--"
Heyst stirred a little.
"Came here," he finished.
Her tenseness relaxed, her flushed face went gradually back to its
normal tint.
"Yes," she said indifferently, but at the same time she gave him a
stealthy glance of passionate appreciation; and then her face took on a
melancholy cast, her whole figure drooped imperceptibly.
"But you were coming back here anyhow?" she asked.
"Yes. I was only waiting for Davidson. Yes, I was coming back here, to
these ruins--to Wang, who perhaps did not expect to see me again. It's
impossible to guess at the way that Chinaman draws his conclusions, and
how he looks upon one."
"Don't talk about him. He makes me feel uncomfortable. Talk about
yourself!"
"About myself? I see you are still busy with the mystery of my existence
here; but it isn't at all mysterious. Primarily the man with the quill
pen in his hand in that picture you so often look at is responsible for
my existence.
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