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wondered。　　At　that　moment　Miss　Moorsom　came　out　on　the　verandah；



and　at　once；　as　if　by　a　mystery　of　radiating　waves；　she　roused　a



great　tumult　in　his　heart；　shook　earth　and　sky　together　…　but　he



plodded　on。　　Then　like　a　grave　song…note　in　the　storm　her　voice



came　to　him　ominously。







〃Ah！　　Mr。　Renouard。　。　。　〃　　He　came　up　and　smiled；　but　she　was　very



serious。　　〃I　can't　keep　still　any　longer。　　Is　there　time　to　walk　up



this　headland　and　back　before　dark？〃







The　shadows　were　lying　lengthened　on　the　ground；　all　was　stillness



and　peace。　　〃No；〃　said　Renouard；　feeling　suddenly　as　steady　as　a



rock。　　〃But　I　can　show　you　a　view　from　the　central　hill　which　your



father　has　not　seen。　　A　view　of　reefs　and　of　broken　water　without



end；　and　of　great　wheeling　clouds　of　sea…birds。〃







She　came　down　the　verandah　steps　at　once　and　they　moved　off。　　〃You



go　first；〃　he　proposed；　〃and　I'll　direct　you。　　To　the　left。〃







She　was　wearing　a　short　nankin　skirt；　a　muslin　blouse；　he　could　see



through　the　thin　stuff　the　skin　of　her　shoulders；　of　her　arms。　　The



noble　delicacy　of　her　neck　caused　him　a　sort　of　transport。　　〃The



path　begins　where　these　three　palms　are。　　The　only　palms　on　the



island。〃







〃I　see。〃







She　never　turned　her　head。　　After　a　while　she　observed：　　〃This　path



looks　as　if　it　had　been　made　recently。〃







〃Quite　recently；〃　he　assented　very　low。







They　went　on　climbing　steadily　without　exchanging　another　word；　and



when　they　stood　on　the　top　she　gazed　a　long　time　before　her。　　The



low　evening　mist　veiled　the　further　limit　of　the　reefs。　　Above　the



enormous　and　melancholy　confusion；　as　of　a　fleet　of　wrecked



islands；　the　restless　myriads　of　sea…birds　rolled　and　unrolled　dark



ribbons　on　the　sky；　gathered　in　clouds；　soared　and　stooped　like　a



play　of　shadows；　for　they　were　too　far　for　them　to　hear　their



cries。







Renouard　broke　the　silence　in　low　tones。







〃They'll　be　settling　for　the　night　presently。〃　　She　made　no　sound。



Round　them　all　was　peace　and　declining　sunshine。　　Near　by；　the



topmost　pinnacle　of　Malata；　resembling　the　top　of　a　buried　tower；



rose　a　rock；　weather…worn；　grey；　weary　of　watching　the　monotonous



centuries　of　the　Pacific。　　Renouard　leaned　his　shoulders　against



it。　　Felicia　Moorsom　faced　him　suddenly；　her　splendid　black　eyes



full　on　his　face　as　though　she　had　made　up　her　mind　at　last　to



destroy　his　wits　once　and　for　all。　　Dazzled；　he　lowered　his　eyelids



slowly。







〃Mr。　Renouard！　　There　is　something　strange　in　all　this。　　Tell　me



where　he　is？〃







He　answered　deliberately。







〃On　the　other　side　of　this　rock。　　I　buried　him　there　myself。〃







She　pressed　her　hands　to　her　breast；　struggled　for　her　breath　for　a



moment；　then：　　〃Ohhh！　。　。　。　You　buried　him！　。　。　。　What　sort　of　man



are　you？　。　。　。　You　dared　not　tell！　。　。　。　He　is　another　of　your



victims？　。　。　。　You　dared　not　confess　that　evening。　。　。　。　You　must



have　killed　him。　　What　could　he　have　done　to　you？　。　。　。　You



fastened　on　him　some　atrocious　quarrel　and　。　。　。〃







Her　vengeful　aspect；　her　poignant　cries　left　him　as　unmoved　as　the



weary　rock　against　which　he　leaned。　　He　only　raised　his　eyelids　to



look　at　her　and　lowered　them　slowly。　　Nothing　more。　　It　silenced



her。　　And　as　if　ashamed　she　made　a　gesture　with　her　hand；　putting



away　from　her　that　thought。　　He　spoke；　quietly　ironic　at　first。







〃Ha！　the　legendary　Renouard　of　sensitive　idiots　…　the　ruthless



adventurer　…　the　ogre　with　a　future。　　That　was　a　parrot　cry；　Miss



Moorsom。　　I　don't　think　that　the　greatest　fool　of　them　all　ever



dared　hint　such　a　stupid　thing　of　me　that　I　killed　men　for　nothing。



No；　I　had　noticed　this　man　in　a　hotel。　　He　had　come　from　up　country



I　was　told；　and　was　doing　nothing。　　I　saw　him　sitting　there　lonely



in　a　corner　like　a　sick　crow；　and　I　went　over　one　evening　to　talk



to　him。　　Just　on　impulse。　　He　wasn't　impressive。　　He　was　pitiful。



My　worst　enemy　could　have　told　you　he　wasn't　good　enough　to　be　one



of　Renouard's　victims。　　It　didn't　take　me　long　to　judge　that　he　was



drugging　himself。　　Not　drinking。　　Drugs。〃







〃Ah！　　It's　now　that　you　are　trying　to　murder　him；〃　she　cried。







〃Really。　　Always　the　Renouard　of　shopkeepers'　legend。　　Listen！　　I



would　never　have　been　jealous　of　him。　　And　yet　I　am　jealous　of　the



air　you　breathe；　of　the　soil　you　tread　on；　of　the　world　that　sees



you　…　moving　free　…　not　mine。　　But　never　mind。　　I　rather　liked　him。



For　a　certain　reason　I　proposed　he　should　come　to　be　my　assistant



here。　　He　said　he　believed　this　would　save　him。　　It　did　not　save



him　from　death。　　It　came　to　him　as　it　were　from　nothing　…　just　a



fall。　　A　mere　slip　and　tumble　of　ten　feet　into　a　ravine。　　But　it



seems　he　had　been　hurt　before　up…country　…　by　a　horse。　　He　ailed



and　ailed。　　No；　he　was　not　a　steel…tipped　man。　　And　his　poor　soul



seemed　to　have　been　damaged　too。　　It　gave　way　very　soon。〃







〃This　is　tragic！〃　Felicia　Moorsom　whispered　with　feeling。



Renouard's　lips　twitched；　but　his　level　voice　continued



mercilessly。







〃That's　the　story。　　He　rallied　a　little　one　night　and　said　he



wanted　to　tell　me　something。　　I；　being　a　gentleman；　he　said；　he



could　confide　in　me。　　I　told　him　that　he　was　mistaken。　　That　there



was　a　good　deal　of　a　plebeian　in　me；　that　he　couldn't　know。　　He



seemed　disappointed。　　He　muttered　something　about　his　innocence　and



something　that　sounded　like　a　curse　on　some　woman；　then　turned　to



the　wall　and　…　just　grew　cold。〃







〃On　a　woman；〃　cried　Miss　Moorsom　indignantly。　　〃What　woman？〃







〃I　wonder！〃　said　Renouard；　raising　his　eyes　and　noting　the　crimson



of　her　ear…lobes　against　the　live　whiteness　of　her　complexion；　the



sombre；　as　if　secret；　night…splendour　of　her　eyes　under　the



writhing　flames　of　her　hair。　　〃Some　woman　who　wouldn't　believe　in



that　poor　innocence　of　his。　。　。　Yes。　　You　probably。　　And　now　you



will　not　believe　in　me　…　not　even　in　me　who　must　in　truth　be　what　I



am　…　even　to　death。　　No！　　You　won't。　　And　yet；　Felicia；　a　woman



like　you　and　a　man　like　me　do　not　often　come　together　on　this



earth。〃







The　flame　of　her　glorious　head　scorched　his　face。　　He　flung　his　hat



far　away；　and　his　suddenly　lowered　eyelids　brought　out　startlingly



his　resemblance　to　antique　bronze；　the　profile　of　Pallas；　still；



austere；　bowed　a　little　in　the　shadow　of　the　rock。　　〃Oh！　　If　you



could　only　understand　the　truth　that　is　in　me！〃　he　added。







She　waited；　as　if　too　astounded　to　speak；　till　he　looked　up　again；



and　then　with　unnatural　force　as　if　defending　herself　from　some



unspoken　aspersion；　〃It's　I　who　stand　for　truth　here！　　Believe　in



you！　　In　you；　who　by　a　heartless　falsehood　…　and　nothing　else；



nothing　else；　do　you　hear？　…　have　brought　me　here；　deceived；



cheated；　as　in　some　abominable　farce！〃　　She　sat　down　on　a　boulder；



rested　her　chin　in　her　hands；　in　the　pose　of　simple　grief　…



mourning　for　herself。







〃It　only　wanted　this。　　Why！　　Oh！　　Why　is　it　that　ugliness；



ridicule；　and　baseness　must　fall　across　my　path。〃







On　that　height；　alone　with　the　sky；　they　spoke　to　each　other　as　if



the　earth　had　fallen　away　from　under　their　feet。







〃Are　you　grieving　for　your　dignity？　　He　was　a　mediocre　soul　and



could　have　given　you　but　an　unworthy　existence。〃







She　did　not　even　smile　at　those　words；　but；　superb；　as　if　lifting　a



corner　of　the　veil；　she　turned　on　him　slowly。







〃And　do　you　imagine　I　would　have　devoted　myself　to　him　for　such　a



purpose！　　Don't　you　know　that　reparation　was　due　to　him　from　me？　　A



sacred　debt　…　a　fine　duty。　　To　redeem　him　would　not　have　been　in　my



power　…　I　know　it。　　But　he　was　blameless；　and　it　was　for　me　to　come



forward。　　Don't　you　see　that　in　the　eyes　of　the　world　nothing　could



have　rehabilitated　him　so　completely　as　his　marriage　with　me？　　No



word　of　evil　could　be　whispered　of　him　after　I　had　given　him　my



hand。　　As　to　giving　myself　up　to　anything　less　than　the　shaping　of



a　man's　destiny　…　if　I　thought　I　could　do　it　I　would　abhor　myself。



。　。　。〃　　She　spoke　with　authority　in　her　deep　fascinating；



unemotional　voice。　　Renouard　meditated；　gloomy；　as　if　over　some



sinister　riddle　of　a　beautiful　sphinx　met　on　the　wild　road　of　his



life。







〃Yes。　　Your　father　was　right。　　You　are　one　of　these　aristocrats　。　。



。〃







She　drew　herself　up　haughtily。







〃What　do　you　say？　　My　father！　。　。　。　I　an　aristocrat。〃







〃Oh！　　I　don't　mean　that　you　are　like　the　men　and　women　of　the　time



of　armours；　castles；　and　great　deeds。　　Oh；　no！　　They　stood　on　the



naked　soil；　had　traditions　to　be　faithful　to；　had　their　feet　on



this　earth　of　passions　and　death　which　is　not　a　hothouse。　　They



would　have　been　too　plebeian　for　you　since　they　had　to　lead；　to



suffer　with；　to　underst