"There had been a night—ah, long ago—in which Señor Rey summoned her from her companions. It was in a house in Buenos Aires. The Señor had come to that house before. The Señor was always feared. He was always obeyed. She, nor any of her companions, could taste the wine he bought for them. It did not make them laugh like other wine. Oh, yes, they drank it, but they could not taste the flavor—with him in the room!… On this night the Señor had bade her come with him. She could not answer, but obey only. She remembered how hushed her companions became when she went away with the Señor; how strangely they had looked at her—what helpless sorrow was in their eyes…. Even now she could see the faces of her companions gathered about; the Señor smiling at the door; his carriage with black, restless ponies and shining lights; the driver upon his seat, like to whom she quickly became—never answering the Señor, and always obeying!… Ah, yes, there had been a hush in her house as she left it, laughter in all the other houses about; and away they had driven, past the last of the lights——
"Such was the tale, whispered, overlapped with repetitions, a succession of touches like that, done lightly but with a passion—oh, you should have been there to understand! The meaning of a wild, sad life was in them. And her big yellow eyes were hungry upon me. I seemed to see the vast South American town, as old as Europe in sin and as new as Wyoming in heart."
"You make me see it all," Bedient said.
"Can you understand that the Glow-worm is expiring to get back to that old mad life?" Miss Mallory asked.
"Yes, from what you tell me of her."
"It is true, only it must be so he cannot follow…. It must be as it was before he came—when she could taste and feel and see—as it was before the chill settled down upon her senses, before the shuddering began. That's how she expresses it…. She overpowered me a little at first. I was slow to realize how one's intents and sensations could be absolutely physical. I could pity, but there was something actually creepy about her. I was inane enough to ask if she could not return for a visit. She sank back and shut her eyes and clenched her hands, saying:
"'When he is dead or when he is tired of me, I shall go back—not for a visit, but to stay! He would not let me go for a visit, and I could not—oh, I wouldn't dare to run from him! Always I'd think him after me. There would be no sleep for me. I'd think him after me—you know how it is in a dream, when you are like a ghost—all limp in the limbs, but trying to run! It would be like that, if I fled from him—always expecting him to clutch me from behind!… My God, if he would only make me mad! But he won't—he won't!'
"'What do you mean?' I asked.
"'I mean,' the Glow-worm whispered, drawing my head down to hers, 'I mean I would kill him. Oh, he's all but dead! I could kill him with my hands, if he would fill me with rage, so I could forget his eyes. He is all alive in his eyes!… But it shall never be. He will say—do this and come and go and rest and rise, and do that—and I shall obey like the Chinese…. Oh, tell me what you would do, if the Señor said to you, looking right into your skull, 'Come with me to-night!'"
"I told her I should laugh at the Señor, and suggest possibly that he had drunk too much wine. She seemed unable to comprehend, and repeated, 'If he should look right into your skull, could you say that?' I assured her I could, and she tried to believe, but she concluded that I only thought I could be that strong.