Her wildly roaming eyes were caught
by the half-closed window. She ran to it, and by raising herself on her
toes was able to reach the shutter with her fingertips. She pushed it
square, stole back to the middle of the room, and, turning about, swung
her arm, regulating the force of the throw so as not to let the slipper
fly too far out and hit the edge of the overhanging eaves. It was a
task of the nicest judgement for the muscles of those round arms, still
quivering from the deadly wrestle with a man, for that brain, tense with
the excitement of the situation and for the unstrung nerves flickering
darkness before her eyes. At last the slipper left her hand. As soon as
it passed the opening, it was out of her sight. She listened. She did
not hear it strike anything; it just vanished, as if it had wings to fly
on through the air. Not a sound! It had gone clear.
Her valiant arms hanging close against her side, she stood as if turned
into stone. A faint whistle reached her ears. The forgetful Ricardo,
becoming very much aware of his loss, had been hanging about in great
anxiety, which was relieved by the appearance of the slipper flying from
under the eaves; and now, thoughtfully, he had ventured a whistle to put
her mind at ease.
Suddenly the girl reeled forward. She saved herself from a fall only by
embracing with both arms one of the tall, roughly carved posts holding
the mosquito net above the bed.
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