She did not know
how to meet it.
He bent over her. "Getting better, little sweetheart? Oh, don't cry! What
happened? Did I hurt you--frighten you?"
He was stroking her hair soothingly, persuasively, his dark face so close
to hers that when she opened her eyes they looked up straight into his.
But she saw nought to frighten her there, and after a moment she reached
up and kissed him apologetically.
"I'm only silly--only silly," she murmured confusedly. "Good night--good
night--Apollo!"
And with the words she stood up, summoning her strength, smiled upon him,
and slipped free from his encircling arm.
He did not seek to detain her. She flitted from his presence like a
fluttering white moth, and he was left alone. He stood quite motionless
in the semi-darkness, breathing deeply, his clenched hands pressed
against his sides.
That moment had been a revelation to him also. He was abruptly conscious
of the spirit so dominating the body that the fierce, ungoverned heart of
him drew back ashamed as a beast will shrink from the flare of a torch,
and he felt strangely conquered, almost cowed, as though an angel with a
flaming sword had suddenly intervened between him and his desire.
The madness of his passion was yet beating in his veins, but this--this
was another and a stronger element before which all else became
contemptible. The soul of the man had sprung from sleep like an awaking
giant.
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