But even as she said the last words doubt crept into her mind, even into her voice.
The priest came to his gate to see Domini off, and directly she had left him she noticed that Androvsky was under the arcade and had been a witness of their parting. As she went past him and into the hotel she saw that he looked greatly disturbed and excited. His face was lit up by the now fiery glare of the sun, and when, in passing, she nodded to him, and he took off his hat, he cast at her a glance that was like an accusation. As soon as she gained the verandah she heard his heavy step upon the stair. For a moment she hesitated. Should she go into her room and so avoid him, or remain and let him speak to her? She knew that he was following her with that purpose. Her mind was almost instantly made up. She crossed the verandah and sat down in the low chair that was always placed outside her French window. Androvsky followed her and stood beside her. He did not say anything for a moment, nor did she. Then he spoke with a sort of passionate attempt to sound careless and indifferent.
“Monsieur Anteoni has gone, I suppose, Madame?”
“Yes, he has gone. I reached the garden safely, you see.”
“Batouch came later. He was much ashamed when he found you had gone. I believe he is afraid, and is hiding himself till your anger shall have passed away.”
She laughed.
“Batouch could not easily make me angry. I am not like you, Monsieur Androvsky.”
Her sudden challenge startled him, as she had meant it should. He moved quickly, as at an unexpected touch.
“I, Madame?”
“Yes; I think you are very often angry. I think you are angry now.”