her, looking for the beauty of her face, which, indeed, I found
too plenteously, a cold shiver ran through me; but "it is the
marble," I said to myself, and heeded it not.

She withdrew her hand from mine, and after that would scarce
allow me to touch her. It seemed strange, after the fulness of
her first greeting, that she could not trust me to come close to
her. Though her words were those of a lover, she kept herself
withdrawn as if a mile of space interposed between us.

"Why did you run away from me when you woke in the cave?" I said.

"Did I?" she returned. "That was very unkind of me; but I did
not know better."

"I wish I could see you. The night is very dark."

"So it is. Come to my grotto. There is light there."

"Have you another cave, then?"

"Come and see."

But she did not move until I rose first, and then she was on her
feet before I could offer my hand to help her. She came close to
my side, and conducted me through the wood. But once or twice,
when, involuntarily almost, I was about to put my arm around her
as we walked on through the warm gloom, she sprang away several
paces, always keeping her face full towards me, and then stood
looking at me, slightly stooping, in the attitude of one who