She stopped speaking abruptly. Then with a marked change of voice she said:
"Oh, do forgive me for committing the unpardonable sin—babbling about myself! You're the only person I have ever—Forget all about it, won't you? I don't know why I did it. It was the music, I suppose, and the strangeness of this place, and thinking of your work and your hopes for the future. It made me wish I had some too, either for myself or for—for someone like you."
As if irresistibly governed by feeling her voice had again changed, become once more warm as with emotion. But now she drew herself up a little and laughed.
"Don't be afraid! It's over! But you have had a glimpse no one else has ever had, and I know you'll keep it to yourself. Let's talk of something else—anything. Tell me something about your libretto, if you care to."
As they walked slowly toward the heart of the city, followed by the two Arabs, she took Claude's arm, very naturally, as if half for protection, half because it was dark and false steps were possible.
And he told her a good deal, finally a great deal, about the libretto.
"It sounds wonderful!" she said. "I'm so glad! But may I give you a little bit of advice?"
"Yes, do."
"Don't say anything about it to Henriette—Madame Sennier."
"No. But—"