.

"Boris, let us--you and I--be worthy of living to-night--and in the
future."

"Give me your hand then," he answered. "Give it me, Domini."

But she did not give it to him. Instead she went on, speaking a little
more rapidly:

"Boris, don't rely too much on my strength. I am only a woman, and I
have to struggle. I have had to struggle more than perhaps you will
ever know. You--must not make--make things impossible for me. I am
trying--very hard--to--I'm--you must not touch me to-night, Boris."

She drew a little farther away from him. A faint breath of air made the
leaves of the palm trees rustle slightly, made the reeds move for an
instant by the pool. He laid his hand again on the wall from which he
had lifted it. There was a pleading sound in her voice which made him
feel as if it were speaking close against his heart.

"I said I would tell you to-night where we are going."

"Tell me now."

"We are going back to Beni-Mora. We are not very far off from Beni-Mora
to-night--not very far."

"We are going to Beni-Mora!" he repeated in a dull voice. "We are----"

He sat up on the wall, looking straight into her face.

"Why?" he said. His voice was sharp now, sharp with fear.

"Boris, do you want to be at peace, not with me, but with God? Do
you want to get rid of your burden of misery, which increases--I know
it--day by day?"

"How can I?" he said hopelessly.

"Isn't expiation the only way? I think it is."

"Expiation! How--how can--I can never expiate my sin."

"There's no sin that cannot be expiated. God isn't merciless. Come back
with me to Beni-Mora. That little church--where you married me--come
back to it with me. You could not confess to the--to Father Beret. I
feel as if I knew why. Where you married me you will--you must--make
your confession."

"To the priest who--to Father Roubier!"

There was fierce protest in his voice.

"It does not matter who is the priest who will receive your confession.
Only make it there--make it in the church at Beni-Mora where you married
me."

"That was your purpose! That is where you are taking me! I can't go, I
won't! Domini, think what you are doing! You are asking too much--"

"I feel that God is asking that of you. Don't refuse Him."

"I cannot go--at Beni-Mora where we--where everything will remind us--"

"Ah, don't you think I shall feel it too? Don't you think I shall
suffer?"

He felt horribly ashamed when she said that, bowed down with an
ov