Arithelli felt more than a little resentful. Why had they shut her out
and prevented her from hearing their discussions?
The men at the other meetings had always wanted her in the room.
She had been entrusted with all their secrets and there was no question
of betrayal. She knew too much about the consequences now to try that.
When Emile came up from below she asked him why he had insulted her by
turning her out.
Did he not trust her, or did he think she had not enough intelligence.
For answer he laughed cynically, "I'll make use of you and your
intelligence fast enough--when I want them. You were cavilling at
being overworked the other day."
Of Vladimir and Paul she saw nothing in the daytime, for they both
ignored her, but in the evenings they all sat together up on deck, and
Paul sang and played the guitar while Arithelli would listen entranced
and faint with pleasure.
A love of melody was the birthright of her race, and the boy had a
genius for music. He seemed to have but two ideas in life--that, and a
devotion which almost amounted to idolatry for the older man.
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