A mad impulse seized her to rush up the steps to the loft, interrupt
the meeting, defy them all and boast how she had schemed her lover's
escape, and laugh at them and their plots, goad them into shooting her
at once and finishing it all quickly. She felt that she could not
endure any more suspense and strain. Anything would be better than
this interminable, awful waiting in the semi-darkness and loneliness,
with neither friend nor lover at hand, no single human to take her part
or defend her. Emile had gone and now Vardri, and she must face
everything alone. If she waited Vardri would have perhaps half an
hour's grace and while they were dealing with her it would give him
still another few minutes, and every minute counted.
She fought down the temptation, and began to move about, speaking to
the mules and, horses, taking down saddles and bridles. She must not
be too quiet, or they might suspect something, and come down sooner to
see if she were still there. She must pretend to be busy, play out the
play to the end.
She unhooked the lantern from its nail and placed it on the ground, and
then stood still again to listen.
Pages:
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313