Before she could make a movement or even turn her head his way, he took
her in his arms and kissed her lips. He tasted on them the bitterness
of a tear fallen there. He had never seen her cry. It was like another
appeal to his tenderness--a new seduction. The girl glanced round,
moved suddenly away, and averted her face. With her hand she signed
imperiously to him to leave her alone--a command which Heyst did not
obey.
CHAPTER FIVE
When she opened her eyes at last and sat up, Heyst scrambled quickly to
his feet and went to pick up her cork helmet, which had rolled a little
way off. Meanwhile she busied herself in doing up her hair, plaited on
the top of her head in two heavy, dark tresses, which had come loose. He
tendered her the helmet in silence, and waited as if unwilling to hear
the sound of his own voice.
"We had better go down now," he suggested in a low tone.
He extended his hand to help her up. He had the intention to smile,
but abandoned it at the nearer sight of her still face, in which was
depicted the infinite lassitude of her soul. On their way to regain the
forest path they had to pass through the spot from which the view of
the sea could be obtained. The flaming abyss of emptiness, the liquid,
undulating glare, the tragic brutality of the light, made her long for
the friendly night, with its stars stilled by an austere spell; for the
velvety dark sky and the mysterious great shadow of the sea, conveying
peace to the day-weary heart.
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