The answer startled her. And in the depths of his blue eyes there seemed to her to be hovering a swarm of thoughts that would not let themselves loose in her presence, but were none the less the true companions of his mind. She saw herself a moment as Elsa, and her husband as a modern Lohengrin, coming spiritually she knew not whence, bound on some quest mysterious and unthinkable. "What will you do," she said, suddenly, "when the dukedom comes to you?" Delafield's aspect darkened in an instant. If he could have shown anger to her, anger there would have been. "That is a subject I never think of or discuss, if I can help it," he said, abruptly; and, rising to his feet, he pointed out that the sun was declining fast towards the plain of the Casentino, and they were far from their hotel. "Inhuman!--unreasonable!" was the cry of the critical sense in her as she followed him in silence. * * * * * Innumerable memories of this kind beat on Julie's mind as she sat dreamily on her bench among the Swiss meadows. How natural that in the end they should sweep her by reaction into imaginations wholly indifferent--of a drum-and-trumpet history, in the actual fighting world. ... Far, far in the African desert she followed the march of Warkworth's little troop. Ah, the blinding light--the African scrub and sand--the long, single line--the native porters with their loads--the handful of English officers with that slender figure at their head--the endless, waterless path with its palms and mangoes and mimosas--the scene rushed upon the inward eye and held it. She felt the heat, the thirst, the weariness of bone and brain--all the spell and mystery of the unmapped, unconquered land. Did he think of her sometimes, at night, under the stars, or in the blaze and mirage of noon? Yes, yes; he thought of her. Each to the other their thoughts must travel while they lived. In Delafield's eyes, she knew, his love for her had been mere outrage and offence. Ah, well, _he_, at least, had needed her. He had desired only very simple, earthy things--money, position, success--things it was possible for a woman to give him, or get for him; and at the last, though it were only as a traitor to his word and his _fiancée_, he had asked for love--asked commonly, hungrily, recklessly, because he could not help it--and then for pardon! And those are things the memory of which lies deep, deep in the pulsing, throbbing heart. At this point she hurriedly checked and scourged herself, as she did a hundred times a day. No, no, _no_! It was all over, and she and Jacob would still make a fine thing of their life together. Why not?