“I should be able, shouldn’t I, Helena?”
“You are always able!” she cried. “It is I who play with you at hiding.”
“I have really had you so little,” he said.
“Can’t you forget it, Siegmund?” she cried. “Can’t you forget it? It was only a shadow, Siegmund. It was a lie, it was nothing real. Can’t you forget it, dear?”
“You can’t do without me?” he asked.
“If I lose you I am lost,” answered she with swift decision. She had no knowledge of weeping, yet her tears were wet on his face. He held her safely; her arms were hidden under his coat.
“I will have no mercy on those shadows the next time they come between us,” said Helena to herself. “They may go back to hell.”
She still clung to him, craving so to have him that he could not be reft away.
Siegmund felt very peaceful. He lay with his arms about her, listening to the backward-creeping tide. All his thoughts, like bees, were flown out to sea and lost.
“If I had her more, I should understand her through and through. If we were side by side we should grow together. If we could stay here, I should get stronger and more upright.”
This was the poor heron of quarry the hawks of his mind had struck.
Another hour fell like a foxglove bell from the stalk. There were only two red blossoms left. Then the stem would have set to seed. Helena leaned her head upon the breast of Siegmund, her arms clasping, under his coat, his body, which swelled and sank gently, with the quiet of great power.
