The inexorable realities of her world, those realities of which she had so rarely allowed herself to lose sight, came pressing back upon her with renewed insistence.
That momentary glow of exultation, of self-vindication faded before the hard daylight which rushed in upon her soul.
She saw not only how it had all been, but how it would all be to the end.
Then once more his low, broken voice was in her ear, his supplicating eyes before her; the music, the breath of dying flowers assailed once more her senses; she lived over again that near, far-off, wonderful moment.
Again Judith dropped her hands to her side; she clenched them in an intolerable agony; she took a few steps and flung herself face forwards on the pillow.
Shame, anger, pride, all were swept away in an overwhelming torrent of emotion; in a sudden flood of passion, of longing, of desolation.
Baffled, vanquished, she lay there, crushing out the sound of unresisted sobs.
From her heart rose only the cry of defeat:—
“Reuben, Reuben, have mercy on me!”