VII. THE GREEN OF CEDARS




I

THE WOMAN AND THE EXILE


Peter Mowbray first saw her at the corner of Palace Square nearest the
river. He was not in the least the kind of young man who appraises
passing women, very far from a starer. At the instant their eyes met,
his thoughts had been occupied with work matters and the trickery of
events. In fact, there was so much to do that he resented the
intrusion, found himself hoping in the first flash that she would show
some flaw to break the attraction.

It may have been that her eyes were called to the passer-by just as
his had been, without warning or volition. In any event their eyes met
full, leisurely in that stirring silence before the consciousness of
self, time, place and convention rushes in. ... Though she seemed very
poor, there was something about her beyond reach in nobility. He was
left with the impression of the whitest skin, the blackest hair and
the reddest lips, but mainly of a gray-eyed girl--eyes that had become
wider and wider, and had filled with sudden amazement (doubtless at
her own answering look) before they turned away.

Desolation was abroad in Warsaw after this encounter. Mowbray thought