The Trespasser - Page 27/166

In an instant he was kneeling, and she was lying on his shoulder,

abandoned to him. There was a good deal of sorrow in his joy.

* * * * * It was eleven o'clock when Helena at last loosened Siegmund's arms, and

rose from the armchair where she lay beside him. She was very hot,

feverish, and restless. For the last half-hour he had lain absolutely

still, with his heavy arms about her, making her hot. If she had not

seen his eyes blue and dark, she would have thought him asleep. She

tossed in restlessness on his breast.

'Am I not uneasy?' she had said, to make him speak. He had smiled

gently.

'It is wonderful to be as still as this,' he said. She had lain tranquil

with him, then, for a few moments. To her there was something sacred in

his stillness and peace. She wondered at him; he was so different from

an hour ago. How could he be the same! Now he was like the sea, blue and

hazy in the morning, musing by itself. Before, he was burning, volcanic,

as if he would destroy her.

She had given him this new soft beauty. She was the earth in which his

strange flowers grew. But she herself wondered at the flowers produced

of her. He was so strange to her, so different from herself. What next

would he ask of her, what new blossom would she rear in him then. He

seemed to grow and flower involuntarily. She merely helped to

produce him.

Helena could not keep still; her body was full of strange sensations, of

involuntary recoil from shock. She was tired, but restless. All the time

Siegmund lay with his hot arms over her, himself so incomprehensible in

his base of blue, open-eyed slumber, she grew more breathless and

unbearable to herself.

At last she lifted his arm, and drew herself out of the chair. Siegmund

looked at her from his tranquillity. She put the damp hair from her

forehead, breathed deep, almost panting. Then she glanced hauntingly at

her flushed face in the mirror. With the same restlessness, she turned

to look at the night. The cool, dark, watery sea called to her. She

pushed back the curtain.

The moon was wading deliciously through shallows of white cloud. Beyond

the trees and the few houses was the great concave of darkness, the sea,

and the moonlight. The moon was there to put a cool hand of absolution

on her brow.

'Shall we go out a moment, Siegmund?' she asked fretfully.

'Ay, if you wish to,' he answered, altogether willing. He was filled

with an easiness that would comply with her every wish.