“You have questions to ask which I alone can answer.”
“You are the one person who cannot answer them, for I cannot ask them of you.”
“It is of me that you must ask them,” was all Ivan’s reply. Then he added: “It is of me you have to learn these answers. Learn them by experience if you like, and blindly. If you care to speak, you shall be answered in words. This will spare you some pain, and save you years of wasted time. Are you too proud?”
There was a pause. Then Fleta replied deliberately:
“Yes, I am too proud.”
Ivan bowed his head and turned away. He stooped over Father Amyot, and taking a flask from his pocket, rubbed some liquid on the monk’s white and rigid lips.
“I forbid you,” said Ivan, “to use your power over Amyot again.”
“You forbid me?” repeated Fleta in a tone of profound amazement. Evidently this tone was entirely new to her.
“Yes, and you dare not disobey me. If you do, you will suffer instantly.”
Fleta looked the amazement which was evidently beyond her power to express in words. Ivan’s manner was cold, almost harsh. Never had he addressed her without gentleness before. Hastily she recovered herself, and without pausing to address to him any other word she turned away and went quickly through the trees and back to the house. Otto was standing at one of the windows; she went straight to him.