Of course the crowd has prevented her returning. There would be great
difficulty in getting back from Auteuil.
Some of the fellows of the Supreme War Council rang up. They were less
exhilarated by the news. A pity, they thought. Foch could have entered
Berlin in a week!
At last, when I had been pacing like a restless tiger, and twilight was
coming, I sank into my chair overcome with the strain.
I did not mean to feel the drivel of self pity, but it is a ghastly
thing to be all alone and anxious, when everyone else is shouting for
joy.
I was staring into the fire. I had not had the lights lit on purpose. I
wanted the soft shadows to soothe me. Burton had gone down again to the
_concierge_.
A bitterness and a melancholy I cannot describe was holding me. Of what
good my leg and my eye if I am to suffer torment once more? A sense of
forsakenness held me. Perhaps I dozed, because I was worn out, when
suddenly I was conscious of a closing door, and opening my eye, I saw
that Alathea stood before me.
A log fell and blazed brightly, and I could see that her face was
greatly moved.
"I am so sorry if you have been anxious.--Burton says you have. I would
have been back earlier but I was caught in the crowd."
I reached out and turned on the lamp near me, and when she saw my eye
and leg, she fell upon her knees at my side.
"Oh! Nicholas," she cried brokenly, and I put out my hand and took her
hand.
* * * * *
What a thing is joy!
My heart beat madly, the blood rushed in my veins. What was that noise I
heard in my ear beyond the shouting in the street?
Was it the cooing which used to haunt my dreams?
Yes it was. And Alathea's voice was murmuring in French:
"_Pardon, pardon, j' etais si bien ingrate--Pardonnez moi--Hein?_"