The maid went away, not answering. As she disappeared through the door at the lower end of the long library, Magda stepped dreamily backwards, and stumbled over the curtain, just escaping a fall. Nobody else was near Patricia.
Then it was that Magda's "great opportunity" came; an opportunity for heroic self-forgetfulness, such as she might never have again.
Patricia, still before the glass, was studying herself, turning this way and that with hasty petulant movements. At the instant when Magda stumbled, a quick movement brought the hanging veil into contact with a lighted candle on the table, dragging the candlestick over. It fell—the candle still alight—upon Patricia's flowing train, which at once caught fire.
Though vaguely conscious of having made something fall, Patricia did not know what had happened. But the flame rushed up her robe and enveloped her. One instant she was twisting into a new attitude, muttering vexedly about people's "stupidity." The next instant, dress and veil and hair all blazed, and a burning tongue licked her delicate skin, bringing anguish and terror. With a frantic shriek, she sped into the library, aiming straight for Magda—across the dais, down the two steps.
Now was Magda's opportunity! She had longed for such a chance, and here it was. She stood nearer to Patricia than any other, and the heavy woollen curtain lay in readiness at her very feet.
But the thing came with such awful suddenness! There was no warning. The whole world seemed serene; everything going on quietly, just as usual. And then, all at once, that fearful piercing scream, and the living column of fire and smoke, with white arms flung high in wild appeal, bearing down upon her!
She was taken utterly by surprise—terrified—bewildered—startled out of her self-control. And her own dress was so flimsy as to mean added danger. Not that she thought of this, for she thought of nothing. There was no time to think! She only followed the first blind impulse, which urged personal safety.
Afterwards, she never could imagine how it was that she had not instantly snatched up the curtain, and thrown it round the fire-clad figure. There it lay, within touch; yet she did nothing. Terror overmastered her; and with an echoing cry of alarm, she turned and ran towards the farther end of the long library, as Patricia in agony came after her.
Such a simple obvious thing it would have been to do—though meaning no doubt danger to herself. Ah—but not so easy! The prevailing impulse at such a moment is determined by dominant habits of mind and thought. And Magda had not trained herself to act instinctively for others, to put self aside.
She had been beaten on countless small occasions before; therefore she was naturally beaten here again. She had not been faithful in those things which were least; and how could she now be faithful in this which was much?