“Naturally!” I observed. “And will you also join in the service of perpetual adoration?”
“Oh, yes!”
“It needs an untainted soul like yours,” I said, with a satirical smile, which she did not see, “to pray before the unveiled Host without being conscience-smitten! I envy you your privilege. I could not do it—but you are probably nearer to the angels than we know. And so you will pray for me?”
She raised her eyes with devout gentleness. “I will indeed!”
“I thank you!”—and I choked back the bitter contempt and disgust I had for her hypocrisy as I spoke—“I thank you heartily—most heartily! Addio!”
She came or rather floated to my side, her white garments trailing about her and the gold of her hair glittering in the mingled glow of the firelight and the wintery sunbeams that shone through the window. She looked up—a witch-like languor lay in her eyes—her red lips pouted.
“Not one kiss before you go?” she said.
CHAPTER XXI.
FOR a moment I lost my self-possession. I scarcely remember now what I did. I know I clasped her almost roughly in my arms—I know that I kissed her passionately on lips, throat and brow—and that in the fervor of my embraces, the thought of what manner of vile thing she was came swiftly upon me, causing me to release her with such suddenness that she caught at the back of a chair to save herself from falling. Her breath came and went in little quick gasps of excitement, her face was flushed—she looked astonished, yet certainly not displeased. No, SHE was not angry, but I was—thoroughly annoyed—bitterly vexed with myself, for being such a fool.
“Forgive me,” I muttered. “I forgot—I—”