comedy and bitter tragedy that jostle each other on the stage of life—why should these become her rivals? She could not contend with them; they were to her known only through his words; they were mere phrases to her, but she feared them.
She vaguely pictured, beyond the opaline horizon of her plains, brilliant and shadowy hosts, dream-cities, golden gates of ivory palaces, faces of women lovely as the opening blossoms of the lily and the rose. Why should she yield him up to these?
She walked across the width of white sunshine shining on the dust, and said in her heart: 'I will never tell; I will never tell.'
She was not conscious of any treachery in her resolve; she had only the barbarian's instinct to hold and keep.
They were so happy; so it seemed to her. She would have wanted nothing more all her life long than to live on in that solitude, and spin, and weave, and hunt, and fish, and bake bread, all for him, enough repaid by a caress, a murmur, even a mere glance.
She walked with dull step and heavily-throbbing heart over the sunburnt earth.
