He arose, without turning from her, and moved to the far corner of the room, where there was neither chair nor table. As he moved, he watched her with tireless thirsting eyes.
She arose and came to him, moving low.... This figure that came, thrilled him again with the old magic of the river-banks. He could not pass the wonder of her crossing the room to follow him.... And now he saw her lips in the light—a girl’s shyness about her lips. She was a girl that instant—as if a veil had dropped behind her. It had never been so before—a woman always, wise and finished with years, compared to whom that other was a child. And yet she was little older than that other—in years. He loved the shyness of her lips. It was like one familiar bloom in the midst of exotic wonders. It seemed he would fall—before she touched him.
She was low in his arms, as if her knees were bent, as if she would make herself less for her lord.... And something in that, even as he held her, opened the long low roads of the past—glimpses from that surging mystery behind us all—as if they had sinned and expiated and aspired together.
“... That you would come to me——” he whispered.
“I have wanted to come to you so long.”
“I thought—I could not tell you—I thought I would stand helpless without words before you. Why, everything I thought was wrong. I can tell you—but there is no need——”
“There is little need of words between us.”
... That which she wore upon her feet was heel-less, and all the cries and calls and warnings and distances of the world were gone from between them, as they stood together.... And once her arms left him and were upheld, as if to receive a perfect gift. A woman could command heaven with that gesture.
They had reached the end of the forest, and found the dawn. The sounds of the world came back to them like an enchanter’s drone.