THE OVERTONE
183
when I look up your face is framed by a tree-top that goes nodding from one side to the other, and I look up at your eyes and past them at the stars until I know that our love is like them, and free as the wind. Mary, my dearest, your cold hand that I kiss is more to me than oceans of silver, or mountains of gold."
"Now, if we could both die, this would never end. But it will never end in spite of to-morrow, will it? You will go back home with me."
"Go home with you?"
"Take my hand again. Pierre, what has happened? What have I done? What have I said?"
