“I know nothing,” murmured Luc, “and I am afraid to guess.”
“Afraid!” echoed Carola. “I too am afraid, bitterly afraid.”
She turned her eyes from him and sank on to the seat with her head bent.
Luc stepped impulsively towards her.
“I have dreamt of you so often,” he said gravely; his lips were quivering and his eyes filled with tears. “You could never understand——”
He laid his hand very lightly on her cloak; she looked up suddenly and said almost fiercely—
“Do not kiss me—do not touch me.”
He would as soon have thought of trying to clasp the rainbow or press his lips to a moonbeam. He started, and flushed, and winced.
“Not you,” she continued. “I could so easily hate you if you were to bring it to that. I also have had my dreams.”
She was suddenly stripped of glory; her voice was even a little harsh; her attitude of shrinking distaste had nothing of the divine in it. Luc stared at her with a sudden terror; she seemed to be changing under his very eyes.