This view of life seemed to astonish her not a little. She caught her breath for a moment, then suddenly glided close to him.
"If you wish," she said in an even whisper, "you may kiss me once."
All the blood in the man's heart seemed to turn to fire and flame into his face as he turned towards her, making as if he would take her face in his hands and seal his soul upon her mouth. Then he sharply flung himself away from her.
"Nay, I can fight and if needs must die in your quarrel, but if once
I touched your lips—that would make life too sweet to adventure."
The woman's face had flushed a little at her offer: it now paled again.
"As you will," she said, and as she spoke there came the noise of shouting, singing and trampling feet outside. The poet dropped in a moment from the dizzy pinnacle of dreamland to the calm valley of a commonplace world.
"These are my friends returning," he said. "They mustn't see you. Come this way." As he spoke he caught her hand and drew her across the room to the stairs that led to the upper gallery. On the gallery he bade her wait.
"Here you can see without being seen. When he comes, show him to me.
Then you can reach the street by this passage."
Even as he spoke the main door was dashed open and the wild rout foamed into the room, bubbling with exhilaration, Huguette leaping like a bubble on the eddies of their enthusiasm. Louis and Tristan took advantage of the confusion to emerge from their hiding places and resume their seats at their table,
"That was rare sport while it lasted," Colin shouted.