Her eyes clouded for a second. "Madame Zalenska does to travel
with--but you shall call me what you like."

He grew emboldened.

"I suddenly feel I want so much--I want to know why your eyes were so
mocking through the trees on the Buergenstock? They drove me nearly
mad, you know, and I raced about after you like a dog after a hare!"

"I thought you would--you did not control the expression when you
gazed up at me! And so I was the true hare--and ran away!"

She looked down suddenly and was silent for some moments, then she
turned the conversation from these personal things. She led his
thoughts into new channels--made him observe the trees and sky, and
the wonderful beauty of it all, and with lightning flashes took him
into unknown speculations on emotions and the meaning of things.

A new existence seemed to open to Paul's view. And all the while she
lay back in her chair almost motionless, only her wonderful eyes lit
up the strange whiteness of her face. There was not a touch of
_mauvaise honte_, or explanation of the unusualness of this
situation in her manner. It had a perfect, quiet dignity, as if to
look into the eyes of an unknown young man at night over an ivy
terrace, and then spend a day with him alone, were the most natural
things in the world to do.

Paul felt she was a queen whose actions must be left unquestioned.