Part 35 (1/2)

Her face bore the pallor of the grave. Her large, l.u.s.trous eyes were sunken, and lines seemed to have been engraved in a face that had previously been as smooth and fair as a rose in bloom.

He felt panic-stricken as she recognized him with an almost imperceptible nod, and he stared at her a trifle longer than was necessary, with his lips slightly ajar, his nails biting into his palms, and he sensed rather than saw, that her beauty had been transformed into one of gray melancholy.

At that juncture, a tinkling voice shrilled up at him from the after cargo-well, and Peter turned to see his small charge, the maid from Maca.s.sar, smiling as she waited for him beside a small pile of silken bundles of the rainbow's own colors. He had not forgotten the Eurasian girl, but he desired to have a parting word with Romola Borria.

He called over the rail, and instructed her of the black pigtail to wait for him in a sampan, and he yelled down to one of the dozens of struggling and babbling coolies, whose sampans swarmed like a horde of c.o.c.kroaches at the ladder's lower extremity.

Romola Borria, alone, was awaiting him, adjusting her gloves, at the doorway of the wireless cabin when he made his way back to that quarter of the s.h.i.+p. She greeted him with a slow, grave smile; and by that smile Peter was given to know how she had suffered.

Her face again became a mask, a mask of death, indeed, as her lids fluttered down and then raised; and her eyes were tired.

He extended his hand, trying to inject some of his accustomed cheerfulness into the gesture and into the smile which somehow would not form naturally on his lips.

”This--is _adieu_--or _au revoir_?” he said solemnly.

”I hope--_au revoir_,” she replied dully. ”So, after all, you refuse to take my counsel, my advice, seriously?”

Peter shrugged. ”I'm rather afraid I can't,” he said. ”You see, I'm young. And you can say to yourself, or out loud without fear of hurting my feelings, that I am--foolish. I guess it is one of the hards.h.i.+ps of being young--this having to be foolish. Wasn't it to-day that I was to become immortal, with a knife through my floating ribs, or a bullet in my heart?

”As I grow older I will become more serious, with balance. Perish the thought! But in the end--shucks! Confucius, wasn't it--that dear old philosopher who could never find a king to try out his theories on--who said:

”The great mountain must crumble.

The strong beam must break.

The wise man must wither away like a plant.”

She nodded.

”I am afraid you will never become serious, Mr. Moore. And perhaps that is one of the reasons why I've grown so--so fond of you in this short while. If I could take life--and death--as stoically, as happily, as you--oh, G.o.d!”

She shut her eyes. Tears were in their rims when she opened them again.

”Mr. Moore, I'll make a foolish confession, too, now. It is--I love you. And in return----”

”I think you're the bravest girl in the world,” said Peter, taking her hands with a movement of quick penitence. ”You--you're a brick.”

”I guess I am,” she sighed, looking moodily away. ”A brick of clay!

Perhaps it is best to walk into the arms of your enemies the way you do, with your head back and eyes s.h.i.+ning and a smile of contempt on your lips. If I only could!”

”Why speak of death on a day like this?” said Peter lightly. ”Life is so beautiful. See those red-and-yellow blossoms on the hill, near the governor's place, and the poor little brats on that sampan, thinking they're the happiest kids in the world. What hurts them, hurts them; what pleases them, pleases them. They're happy because they don't bother to antic.i.p.ate. And think of life, beautiful old life, br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with excitement and the mystery of the very next moment!”

”If I could only see that next moment!”

”Ugh! What a dreary monotony life would become!”

”But we could be sure. We could prepare for--for--well----” She threw up her head defiantly. ”For death, I'll say.”

”But please don't let's talk of death. Let's talk of the fine time you and I are going to have when we see each other again.”