Page:Burton Stevenson--The marathon mystery.djvu/237

Rh well! d’amour, de rires, et d’oublis!” and she laughed, but I fancied there was a sob beneath the laughter. “At least, I shall be again at St. Pierre.”

“And you still long for it?”

“Oh, long for it! So would you, chè, if you had ever lived there.”

A line from Mandalay flashed into my head—

and looking at her, I caught a glimpse of that compelling fascination. Preachers and lecturers are fond of pointing out that no great nation ever came from the tropics—but the people who live there have their compensations.

Suddenly there came a soft hissing from the little cage over the radiator.

“Ah, I must feed Fê-Fê—she is calling me,” she cried, and she sprang up, ran to the next room, and came back with a little wine in a glass.

I stood and watched her without being greatly impressed. Fê-Fê seemed very harmless and lethargic—evidently the climate of New York, even though mellowed by the radiator, did not agree with her.

“She is not at all well,” said Cecily, as she put her back into her cage. “It is only the warmth of the wine that keeps her alive. I shall take her back to St. Pierre with me—there she will again be happy. Tambou! and so shall I! One is always shivering here—the whole world is so cold—the sky, the sea, even the sun!”

“Of course Tremaine will go back with you,” I