Page:In a winter city, by Ouida.djvu/328

Rh the various eloquence of passion. She trembled a little under his close caress; the dusky red of the box whirled around her; the shouting of the multitude below beat like the sound of a distant sea on her ears.

As he kneeled at her feet she touched his forehead one moment with her hand in a gesture of involuntary tenderness.

"It is of no use," she said, faintly again. "You do not understand—you do not know."

"Yes: I do know," he answered her.

"You know!"

"Yes: your brother told me."

"And yet?"

"Since we love one another, is not that enough?"

She breathed like a person suffocated; she loosened herself from his arms, and drew away from him, and rose.

"It makes no change in you, then!" she said, wonderingly, and looked at him through a blinding mist, and felt sick and weary and bewildered, as she had never thought it possible to feel.

"Change in me? What change? save that Y