"And here's a song of exile," she said. "I render it very
badly."--Rudolph had never seen her face like this, bending intently
above the lute. It was as though in the music she found and disclosed
herself, without guile.


"...Blue was the sky,
And blue the rice-pool water lay
Holding the sky;
Blue was the robe she wore that day.
Alas, my sorrow! Why
Must life bear all away,
Away, away,
Ah, my beloved, why?"


A murmur of praise went round the group, as she put aside the
instrument.

"The sun's getting low," she said lightly, "and I _must_ see that view
from the top." Chantel was rising, but sat down again with a scowl, as
she turned to Rudolph. "You've never seen it, Mr. Hackh? Do come help
me up."

Inside, with echoing steps, they mounted in a squalid well, obscurely
lighted from the upper windows, toward which decaying stairs rose in a
dangerous spiral, without guard-rail. A misstep being no trifle, Rudolph
offered his hand for the mere safety; but she took it with a curious
little laugh. They climbed cautiously. Once, at a halt, she stood very
close, with eyes shining large in the dusk. Her slight body trembled,