He thought of the tales he had heard as a child from the
peasants on winter nights in his own country. Tales of the forests and
legends of the Hartz Mountains, of lonely places haunted by nixies and
wood maidens, fairy shapes with streaming hair and vaporous robes,
seeing which a man would become for ever after mad with longing, and
desire no mortal woman.
Arithelli's long limbs appeared nymphlike in her plain blue
high-waisted gown of Emile's choosing, that had no superfluous bow or
trimming, and left free her beauty of outline. She possessed no
jewellery now wherewith to deck herself, and there was no trace of
artificial red on face and lips.
The candles on the table flickered to and fro in the draught from the
open window and she shivered in the midst of some laughing speech and
glanced over her shoulder at the door behind her.
Vardri, reading her thoughts, said, "You're afraid of something, dear,
what is it?"
"Nothing, at least I thought someone was listening, was coming in. We
are always talking of spies till one gets absurdly nervous and imagines
all sorts of foolish things.
Pages:
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218