“My boy! You won’t let them take him away, you must promise me that.”
“Julie, look at me.”
She raised her heavy lids and met his searching glance; their souls questioned mutely, answered mutely. He drew her closer.
“You shall have your boy. I promise you. Are you satisfied now?”
“Yes—”
She was tired, beaten to exhaustion by the force of rushing psychic waves, breaking against her weak will. Her head throbbed; she tore off her scarf; her hair dropped in a thick coil, down her back, like a writhing white snake; he wound it around his neck.
“This was my punishment.”
“No! No! Our love was not a crime. You fought too hard against it. Nature put her hand on your head and turned your hair white; it was her revenge.”
Julie listened, fascinated; he was irresistible like that, his voice vibrating. Every nerve in her body responded. He stroked her forehead softly, the pain ceased. How happy she was! how happy.
“You are a woman of the Orient; you are starving for love; it is your life—you cannot fight it; it is too strong for you—for me, come! come!”...