And all that had only happened six months ago! When she had finished
he said nothing in approval, but he asked her to sing again, and she
understood, and was pleased.
"You may thank the Fates for having given you a voice," he told her.
"It's better than a face. It lasts longer. No man having once heard
you would listen to another woman."
It was the first compliment he had ever made her, but Arithelli did not
answer. Her back was turned towards him as she gathered together the
music.
He could see that her whole body was trembling with repressed sobs. If
he could only have been sure they were for him, he would have taken her
in his arms. She was sorry he was going, perhaps, in a way, but not in
the way he wanted. She had become dependent upon him, and he had
filled a certain place in her life. If she made a scene it was
entirely his own fault. Farewells were always a mistake, and he had
been foolish enough to allow her to sing sentimental verses about doves
and people's wandering souls. She was over-tired and over-wrought, and
a woman's tears were more often due to physical than to mental reasons.
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