Part 48 (2/2)

”Yes. I could n't admit that to any one else in the world but you--and it hurts you, Peter.”

”It hurts like the devil,” he said.

She placed her hand upon his.

”Poor Peter,” she said gently.

”It hurts like the devil, but it's nothing for you to pity me for,” he put in quickly. ”I'd rather have the hurt from you than nothing.”

”You feel like that?” she asked earnestly.

”Yes.”

”Then,” she said, ”you must understand how, even with me, the joy and the grief are one?”

”Yes, I understand that. Only if he knew--”

”He'd come back to me, you're going to say again. And I tell you again, I won't have him come back, kind and gentle and smiling. If he came back now,--if it were possible for him really to come to me,--I 'd want him to ache with love. I 'd want him to be hurt with love.”

She was talking fiercely, with a wild, unrestrained pa.s.sion such as Peter had never seen in any woman.

”I 'd want,” she hurried on, out of all control of herself--”I'd want everything I don't want him to give--everything I 've no right to ask. I 'd want him to live on tiptoe from one morning through to the next. I'd begrudge him every minute he was just comfortable. I'd want him always eager, always worried, because I 'd be always looking for him to do great things. I 'd have him always ready for great sacrifices--not for me alone, but for himself. I 'd be so proud of him I think I--I could with a smile see him sacrifice even his life for another. For I should know that, after a little waiting, I should meet him again, a finer and n.o.bler man. And all those things I asked of him I should want to do for him. I 'd like to lay down my life for him.”

She stopped as abruptly as she had begun, staring about like some one suddenly awakened to find herself in a strange country. It was Peter's voice that brought her back again to the empty room.

”How you do love him!” he said solemnly.

”Peter,” she cried, ”you shouldn't have listened!”

She shrank back toward the door.

”And I--I thought just kisses on the eyes stood for love,” he added.

”You must forget all I said,” she moaned. ”I was mad--for a moment!”

”You were wonderful,” he told her.

She was still backing toward the door.

”I'm going off to hide,” she said piteously.

”Not that,” he called after her.

But the door closed in front of her. The door closed in front of him.

With his lips clenched, Peter Noyes walked back to the Hotel des Roses.

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