Young as I was, and unskilled in the ways of women, that key worked magic comfort. She had given me a link to hold us together. The inconsistent, contradictory being, old one instant with the wisdom of the Saint-Michels, rippling full of unrestrained life the next, denying me all hope, yet indefinitely tantalizing, was adorable beyond words. I closed my eyes: the blinding sunshine struck them through the ivied arch.
Turning my head as I opened them, I saw an old man come out on the terrace.
He tried to search in every direction, his gray head and faded eyes moving anxiously. Madame de Ferrier was still. I heard her lay the snuffbox on the stone seat. I knew, though I could not let myself watch her, that she stood up against the wall, a woman of stone, her lips chiseled apart.
"Eagle—Eagle!" the old man cried from the terrace.
She whispered—"Yes, Cousin Philippe!"
XI
Swiftly as she passed between the tree columns, more swiftly her youth and vitality died in that walk of a few yards.
We had been girl and boy together a brief half hour, heedless and gay. When she reached the arbor end, our chapter of youth was ended.
I saw her bloodless face as she stepped upon the terrace.