“We must not go too far; it is so lonely, I am afraid.”
Von Ibn stopped short, drew one of her arms behind his back, caught her firmly to his bosom, and approached his face so close to hers that his breath came and went against her lips.
“Are you frightened?” he asked.
“No,” she said, wrapt in a sort of awe at the wonder of her own sensations, “I have the utmost faith in you.”
He loosed her instantly, and walked a little way off for a moment.
“I felt that you wished not,” he said, bitterly, “and so I held myself back. Mon Dieu, how good I am to you,—how cruel to myself,—and no thanks.”
“Oh, let us go back and go home,” she cried; “all this is of no use. It makes me glad to go away, because I see now that for me to go will be better for you.”
“And for you?” he asked, returning to her side.
“I said ‘for you,’” she answered gently.