I bent lower. "I was not cruel. I gave her a giant sepulchre. That is over. But I--I shall have another miniature. I know a skilled man in Paris. Some time--some time I mean to have your portrait in your Indian blouse; in your skin blouse with the sun in your hair." My free hand suddenly crept to her shoulder, "May I have it? May I have it, madame?" I cannot remember. Often as I have tried, I can never quite remember. I am not sure that I heard her whisper. But I think that I did. She quivered under my touch, but she did not draw away, and so we stood for a moment, while my hand wandered where it had gone in dreams and rested on her hair. "Mary!" I whispered, and once more we let the silence lie like a pledge between us. But in the moment of silence I heard again what I had forgotten,--the roar of the camp outside. It seemed louder than it had been, and it claimed my thought. I checked my breath to listen, holding the woman's hand in mine. And while we listened, Cadillac's loud step and cheerful voice came down the passage. The woman drew her hand away, and I let her go. I let her go as if I were ashamed. I have cursed myself for that ever since. Cadillac stopped. "Are you there, Montlivet?" he called. "When you are at leisure, come to my room." I heard his step retreat. And then I turned to the woman. But with Cadillac's voice a change had come. My mind was again heavy with anxiety. I remembered the thronging Indians without, the pressing responsibilities within. I remembered the volcano under us. For the moment I could not think of my personal claims on the woman. I could think only of my anxiety for her. Yet I went to her and took her hand. "Mary,--I am weary of madame and monsieur between us,--you are my wife. May I talk of our future?" I spoke in the very words I had used the night I asked her to marry me,--to marry me for my convenience. I remembered it as I heard my tongue form the phrase, and it recalled my argument of that time,--that she must marry me because my plans were more to me than her wishes. She withdrew from me. "Monsieur Cadillac is waiting for you. You wield great power." Something new had come to her tone. I would have none of it. "Mary, may I talk to you?" But still she drew away. "Monsieur, I am confused, and you are needed elsewhere. Not to-night, I beg you, not to-night." I could not protest. In truth, I knew that Cadillac needed me. I went with her to the door. "To-morrow, then?" I begged. "Will you listen to-morrow, madame?" But she had grown very white. "You are important here. There is work for you. Be careful of your safety. Please be careful." I took her hand. "Thank you, madame." There was much in my tone that I kept out of my words, but she was not conscious of it. She was not thinking of herself, and her eyes, that were on mine, were full of trouble. All the restraint that the last weeks had taught her had come back to her look.