But the Greek did not move his gaze from the woman’s face.
“We are all one,” he said; “there is no real separation between any of us: it is merely these houses of flesh that keep us divided. When our bodies die, all our souls will merge into one Soul.”
Jacques rose timidly, and put his hand on Dmitri’s arm.
“You must not do that!” he said, gently.
And because Dmitri still gazed into Madelein’s eyes and she into his, Jacques placed himself between them and broke the spell.
“Sit down, Dmitri,” said Jacques.
Dmitri’s face had the look of a man whose soul is being disintegrated. He had lost his personality. His eyes were dull, his face was lifeless. His body, his movements, his attitude still suggested abundant strength: simply, his spirit had suffered eclipse.
“I want to give myself to my fellows,” he muttered, “but no one will take me. I am the rejected of all men. My soul is sent back to its home each time it tries to escape.”
He sat down heavily, and brooded.
There, a little later, they left him, for his mood of gladness had been transformed into one of gloom, and though next morning, as he dressed, Dmitri sang out of a deep heart filled to the brim with joy, Jacques looked significantly and sorrowfully at his wife. She, in turn, questioned him with her eyes. But neither spoke.