"Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field; let us lodge in the villages. Let us get up early to the vineyards."
No, that was not exactly how it went. Something was not quite right; but she would find out what it was.
She wrenched back the lid of the piano, which hadn't been opened for a long time, and, as if the neglected and silenced old keys had acquired a voice of their own, a perfect volume of sound rushed forth, which she could never have believed herself or the piano capable of producing.
"Let us see if the vine flourish, whether the tender grape appear, and the pomegranates bud forth; there will I give thee my loves."
Yes, that was it! She had got it now--every bar, every note. Where had it hidden itself all these long years? It seemed like yesterday that she had sung it for the last time.
And yet what worlds of suffering lay between!
"No, not suffering! If it had been nothing but suffering," she thought, "'The Song of Songs' would never have become mute."
CHAPTER XIII
The next morning, on waking, new troubles faced her. Nobody could be so blind as not to detect, sooner or later, what a rotten existence hers was; least of all he whose refinement, at every spiritual contact, awoke in her an anxious echo. Even if she could keep from him every contamination of the world she lived in, and create in it an isolated platform on which to associate with him alone, would not her appearance at last betray her? All those nights of wild dissipation surely must have left some traces behind. It was two years ago that Dr. Salmoni had spoken of the "cold contempt" in her eyes.
She jumped out of bed and ran to the looking-glass to subject every feature to a suspicious scrutiny. Her eyes had a tired look, it was not to be denied; but there was no contempt in their expression. He had called them "Mary eyes," not Madonna eyes. Was there a difference, she wondered? There were a few faint lines on her forehead, but these she could almost rub out with her finger. A little massaging was all that was necessary. Worse were the lines on either side of her mouth, giving to her face a blasé, rather haughty look.