'Play the mazurkas,' repeated Helena calmly.

Louisa rummaged among the music. Helena blew out her violin-candle, and
came to sit down on the side of the fire opposite to Byrne. The music
began. Helena pressed her arms with her hands, musing.

'They are inflamed still' said the young man.

She glanced up suddenly, her blue eyes, usually so heavy and tired,
lighting up with a small smile.

'Yes,' she answered, and she pushed back her sleeve, revealing a fine,
strong arm, which was scarlet on the outer side from shoulder to wrist,
like some long, red-burned fruit. The girl laid her cheek on the
smarting soft flesh caressively.

'It is quite hot,' she smiled, again caressing her sun-scalded arm with
peculiar joy.

'Funny to see a sunburn like that in mid-winter,' he replied, frowning.
'I can't think why it should last all these months. Don't you ever put
anything on to heal it?'

She smiled at him again, almost pitying, then put her mouth lovingly on
the burn.

'It comes out every evening like this,' she said softly, with curious
joy.