“What is there you can ask that Ivan cannot answer?”
“Does it matter to you?” said Fleta imperiously. “You are my messenger, that is all.”
“You cannot command me as before,” said Father Amyot.
“What! do you know that I have failed? Does all the world know it?”
“The world?” echoed Amyot, contemptuously. “No; but all the Brotherhood does, and all its servants do. No one has told me, but I know it.”
“Of course,” said Fleta to herself. “I am foolish.” She turned away and walked up and down on the grass, apparently buried in deep thought. Presently she raised her head suddenly, and quickly moved towards Amyot, who still stood motionless in the dim shadow of the little doorway. She fixed her eyes on him; they were blazing with an intense fire. Her whole attitude was one of command.
“Go,” she said.
Father Amyot stood but for a moment; and then he came out slowly from the doorway, shutting it behind him.
“You have picked up a lost treasure,” he said. “You have found your will again. I obey. Have you told me all your command?”
“Yes. I must speak to one of the White Brothers. What more can I say? I do not know one from another. Only be quick!”