"Will you wait a moment?" she asked.
She hurried into her room, and scarcely had she gone before she reappeared again, this time with a flush burning in her cheeks and her eyes shining brightly. She had unbraided her hair, and it lay coiled upon the crown of her head, glistening with crimson sprigs of bakneesh. She came to him a second time, and once more gave him her hand.
"I don't suppose you care now," she said coldly, and yet laughing in his face. "I have not broken my promise. It was silly, wasn't it?"
He felt as if his blood had been suddenly chilled to water, and he fought to choke back the thick throbbing in his throat.
"You promised—" He could not go further.
"I promised that I would not do up my hair again until you had forgotten to love me," she finished for him. "I will do it up now."
He bowed his head, and she could see his shoulders quiver under their thick caribou coat. Her tense lips parted, and she raised her arms as if on the point of stretching them out to him; but his voice came evenly, without a quiver, yet filled with the dispassionate truth of what he spoke.
"I have not forgotten to love you, Mélisse. I shall never cease to love my little sister. But you are older now, and it is time for you to do up your hair."
He turned, without looking at her again, leaving her standing with her arms still half stretched out to him, and went from the cabin.
"Good-by, Jan!"