The Keepers of the People

1490In the afternoon of the next day Althea went to Vashti’s rooms. She foresaw trouble, dangerous trouble, if Lord Lisdor were making love to her; for she knew the fondness of the Princes for her, and dreaded a terrible resentment. She found her heavy-eyed, listless and idle, she who was always busied with the many things whose smooth working kept life pleasant in the palace of Varandaleel: she sat gazing dreamily from a casement away to the distant mountains. There were dark rims under her eyes; only by a straining effort had she kept herself from her tryst with Lord Lisdor, and from seeing him; and she had slept little.

1491Althea was assured that she had guessed aright; and resolved to have proof, so that if she were able to do anything, she might do it before it was too late. She talked with her a while, trying in vain to divert her from her trouble: and left her at last, very angry with Lord Lisdor that he should have wantonly robbed her of her peace.

1492The night was very still; Lord Lisdor sat waiting, in very little hope, his head on his arm thrown over the back of the seat. He was gnawing at his moustache, and now and again he heaved a gasping sigh. Of a sudden one of his sighs was echoed; he looked up with a little start into the pale face of Vashti who stood with one hand on the end of the back of the bench, regarding him with mournful eyes.

1493They gazed at one another, their hearts tumultuous, till her eyes fell.

1494“Vashti,” he said, looking up at her without moving, and his voice rang very tired. “Why have you done this? Why have you left me in darkness, taking away yourself, my sun, from my eyes? It was very cruel of you.”

1495She touched her arm where he had kissed it.

1496“Are not kisses sweet?” said Lord Lisdor.

1497Vashti was still.

1498He began to paint a moving picture of his wretchedness, his grief at her not coming, his fear lest she might never come again, his sighs through the slow hours, his sinking heart. She listened with ears entranced; and responsive to the passion of his tones, her face grew eloquent of sympathy. Almost without her will, moved by pity, and fascinated by his mastering eyes, she was drawn nearer to him, and even at last, in her pity, very slowly and timidly stretched out one of her hands to him.