"Antony," she called, as they drew nearer to each other, "where in the
wide world have you been? Dinner has been waiting for half-an-hour."

"Dinner!" he said, laughing, and kissing her kindly. "Fancy! the High
Muses have made me half-an-hour late for dinner. Beauty has made me
forget my dinner. Disgraceful!"

"I don't mind your forgetting dinner, Antony--but you might have
remembered me."

"Do you think I could remember Beauty and forget you? Yes! you _are_
beautiful to-night, Silen--Beatrice. You look like a lady one meets
walking by a haunted well in some old Arthurian tale."

"Hush!" said Beatrice, "listen to the night-jar. He is worth a hundred
nightingales."

"Yes; what a passion is that!" said Antony, "so sincere, and yet so
fascinating too."

"'Yet,' do you say, Antony? Why, sincerity is the most fascinating thing
in the world."

And as they listened, Antony's heart had stolen back to Silencieux, and
once more in fancy he pressed his lips to hers in the dusk: "It is with
such an eternal passion that I love you, Silencieux."

FOOTNOTES: