'No,' she said, with that imperious command in her voice and her gaze which made the resolve in him melt like wax beneath a flame. 'You cannot be seen with me in such a state as you are. I will carry the Christ back to the church if so be that He rests uneasily in common arms like ours, and then—well, I will pass by your cabin as I come down. Dost complain of that, my ingrate?'
A flood of warmth and joy and full belief swept like flame through the whole being of Caris. Her eyes were suffused, her cheek blushed, her lips smiled; he believed himself beloved; he thought himself on the threshold of ecstasy; the minutes seemed like hours until he should regain his hut and watch from its door for her coming.
'You will go now?' he asked eagerly.
'At once,' she answered, holding the Gesu to her as a woman would hold a sucking child.
Caris closed his eyes, dazed with her beauty and the wild, sweet thought of how she would hold to her breast some child of his on some fair unborn morrow.
'Then go,' he muttered. 'The sooner we part, the sooner we shall meet. Oh, my angel!'
She gave him a smile over her shoulder, and she pushed her way upward through the chestnut boughs, carrying the Gesu folded to her bosom.
Watching her thus depart, a sudden and new terror struck him.
'Wait,' he called to her. 'Will the priest be angered that I disturbed the graves, think you?'
'Nay, nay, not when he sees that you give him the image,' she called backward in answer.