Page:Czechoslovak stories.pdf/103

 girl with the enchanting eyes. She was arranging her wet garments, drying her damp hair, while some older girl companion helped her.

“Why did you go home in such foul weather?” she asked.

“My sister came for me.” I heard her voice for the first time. It was silkily soft and musical.

“Did something happen at home?”

“My mother just died.” My whole body quivered.

The lovely eyed girl turned and stepped outside into the solitude. She stood near me, her eyes rested on mine. I felt her fingers close to my trembling hand. I seized her hand—it was so soft and tender.

Silently I drew the girl farther and farther into the arcade and she followed freely.

The storm had now reached its height. The wind fushed like a surging flood, heaven and earth roared, above our heads the thunders rolled, and all around us it was as if the dead were shrieking from their graves.

She pressed close to me. I felt her damp clothing clinging to my breast. I felt her soft body, her warm glowing breath—I felt that I must drink out that depraved soul from the very depths of her being!