Part 4 (1/2)

Suddenly she sprang up, one of those fine movements of hers full of cat-like grace.

”Paul,” she said, ”listen,” and she spoke rather fast. ”You are so young, so young--and I shall hurt you--probably. Won't you go now--while there is yet time? Away from Lucerne, back to Paris--even back to England. Anywhere away from me.”

She put her hand on his arm, and looked up into his eyes. And there were tears in hers. And now he saw that they were grey.

He was moved as never yet in all his life.

”I will not!” he said. ”I may be young, but to-night I know--I want to live! And I will chance the hurt, because I know that only you can teach me--just how--”'

Then his voice broke, and he bent down and covered her hand with kisses.

She quivered a little and drew away. She picked up a great bunch of tuberoses, and broke off all their tops. ”There, take them!” she said, pressing them into his hands, and those against his heart. ”Take them and go--and dream of me. You have chosen. Dream of me to-night and remember--there is to-morrow.”

Then she glided back from him, and before he realised it she had gone noiselessly away through another door.

Paul stood still. The room swam; his head swam. Then he stumbled out on to the terrace, under the night sky, the white blossoms still pressed against his heart.

He must have walked about for hours. The grey dawn was creeping over the silent world when at last he went back to the hotel and to his bed.

There he slept and dreamt--never a dream! For youth and health are glorious things. And he was tired out.

The great sun was high in the heavens when next he awoke. And the room was full of the scent of tuberoses, scattered on the pillow beside him. Presently, when his blue eyes began to take in the meaning of things, he remembered and bounded up. For was not this the commencement of his first real day?

CHAPTER IV

The problem which faced Paul, when he had finished a very late breakfast, was how he should see her soon--the lady in black.

He could not go and call like an ordinary visitor, because he did not know her name! That was wonderful--did not even know her name, or anything about her, only that his whole being was thrilling with anxiety to see her again.

The simplest thing to do seemed to descend into the hall and look at the Visitors' List, which he promptly did.

There were only a few people in the hotel; it was not hard, therefore, guessing at the numbers of the rooms, to arrive at the conviction that ”Mme. Zalenska and suite” might be what he was searching for. Zalenska--she was possibly Russian after all. And what was her christian name? That he longed to know.

As he stood staring, his fair forehead puckered into a frown of thought, the silver-haired servant came up behind him and said, with his respectful, dignified bearing:

”_De la part de Madame_,” handing Paul a letter the while.

What could it contain?

But this was not the moment for speculation--he would read and see.

He turned his back on the servant, and walked towards the light, while he tore open the envelope. It had the most minute sphinx in the corner, and the paper was un-English, and rather thin.

This was what he read:

”_Morning_.

”Paul, I am young to-day, and we must see the blue lake and the green trees. Come to the landing towards the station, and I will call for you in my launch. And you shall be young, too, Paul--and teach me!