The Voice was insistent, compelling.
Suddenly a sweet vision met his eyes.
At the gate of a house he was passing stood a young girl dressed in white, who, at the sight of him, ran forward with outstretched hands.
"Amer," she cried, "have you had a happy day, has the feast gone off well?"
For the moment, at the touch of her hands and the sight of her sweet eyes, even the Voice was forgotten, and Amer eagerly told her of the delight of his companions and of the nice words they had said to him, but in answering her eager questions as to his speech, he paused in slight confusion.
"No," he said, "I did not excel as I had hoped. It was lame and I was hesitating."
"But why?" cried Gabrielle, "when you rehearsed it to me you never paused for a word; how was it, Amer?"
"I will tell you some day," he answered, "perhaps to-morrow."
He had an instinctive feeling that Gabrielle would not understand him or sympathize with his strange thoughts.
Gabrielle pouted, but his refusal was soon forgotten and they walked towards the house hand in hand.