For a while she moved slowly along the flower-bordered paths, as though uncertain what to choose from among the perfumed thickets, then, setting her ozier basket on the edge of the walk, she knelt down before the white clove pinks; and Halkett dropped on his knees beside her.
They worked there together, exchanging scarcely a word, slowly filling the basket which lay between them.
Ariadne came up with a cheery mew of greeting, and after marching around and rubbing herself against Halkett, mounted to his shoulders and settled down, purring like a teakettle beside his ear.
When the basket was filled, Sister Eila stood up and straightened her shoulders, and Halkett rose too, the cat still perched on his shoulder.
He lifted the flower-heaped basket and set it in the shade of the arbor; Sister Eila seated herself and Halkett sat down on the stone steps at her feet.
After a silence, made resonant with Ariadne's loudly cadenced purring, Sister Eila clasped her hands in her lap and looked steadily down at the heap of flowers in the green ozier basket.
"What is going to happen?" she asked in a low voice. "If there is to be a war, it will come here, I suppose."
"I am afraid so."
"Yes; Saïs cannot escape."
"The Vosges are too near," he nodded. "So is Ausone. So is the Rhine, for that matter." He glanced up at her from where he sat caressing Ariadne. "Belgium also is too near, Sister Eila."