Any man living at all
consciously knows that embarrassing truth. Heyst was aware that this
visit could bode nothing pleasant. In his present soured temper
towards all mankind he looked upon it as a visitation of a particularly
offensive kind.
He glanced along the veranda in the direction of the other bungalow. The
fire of sticks in front of it had gone out. No faint glow of embers, not
the slightest thread of light in that direction, hinted at the presence
of strangers. The darker shapes in the obscurity, the dead silence,
betrayed nothing of that strange intrusion. The peace of Samburan
asserted itself as on any other night. Everything was as before,
except--Heyst became aware of it suddenly--that for a whole minute,
perhaps, with his hand on the back of the girl's chair and within a foot
of her person, he had lost the sense of her existence, for the first
time since he had brought her over to share this invincible, this
undefiled peace. He picked up the lantern, and the act made a silent
stir all along the veranda. A spoke of shadow swung swiftly across her
face, and the strong light rested on the immobility of her features, as
of a woman looking at a vision. Her eyes were still, her lips serious.
Her dress, open at the neck, stirred slightly to her even breathing.
"We had better go in, Lena," suggested Heyst, very low, as if breaking a
spell cautiously.
Pages:
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302