Sobrenski turned and mounted the worn rungs of the narrow ladder with a lithe, active step. He was quite sure of her now. She would not fail to carry out his will.
CHAPTER XXII
"Il n'y a que l'amour et la mort."
For a few minutes after he had gone, Arithelli stood motionless, still with her hands pressed tightly over her eyes, trying to command her brain to work clearly. Her will and her limbs seemed paralysed. She could only wait for Vardri's approach. Once she prayed an inarticulate wordless prayer, that inspiration might be sent her to find a way out of this impasse in which there seemed neither light nor opening.
Time was passing, and every moment was bringing her nearer the most appalling destiny that could ever be meted out to any woman. If she did Sobrenski's bidding she would be not only a murderess, but the murderess of the being she loved most in the world. Vardri, who was so different from all the other men; Vardri, who could never bear anything to be hurt, or even to be made uncomfortable. She knew that it was perfectly useless for both of them to attempt to escape. Someone was most likely posted at the window of the loft, they would get no distance on foot without being overtaken, and if she attempted to lead out any of the horses or mules, the noise would probably attract attention.
Her hands fell to her side, and her head went up as she listened intently. So he was coming, after all. In that undisturbed space and clear dry air, sound travelled quickly, and she could hear the approaching hoof-beats while he was still some way off. With the knowledge of his approach the blood flowed again warmly in her veins and courage and decision came back to her. Her senses, unnaturally acute, told her that Vardri had now dismounted and was leading his horse. She could distinguish his footsteps, and then the monotonous regular footfalls of his mount. She ran out into the patch of moonlight, casting a hurried backward glance at the side of the hut. Thank God! the window was on the other side!
Vardri was coming slowly towards her, his horse's bridle over his arm. Before she covered the distance between them she made a gesture that enjoined silence and stopped his greeting. "Don't bring your horse in," she whispered. "Tie him up out of the way over there, a good way off the hut. I'll explain presently."
In another moment Vardri was beside her in the hut and had her in his arms.
"What is it, mon petit? There must be something wrong. Has
Sobrenski—?"
"No, no, he has done nothing. It's just that I don't want you to be up here too long to-night. I want you to do something for me. Will you, Vardri?"