back, but was conquered with
difficulty by something still stronger that drove him on, came out of
the fierce sunshine into the shadow of the garden, and began to search
its silent recesses. It was Androvsky. He looked bowed and old and
guilty. The two lines near his mouth were deep. His lips were working.
His thin cheeks had fallen in like the cheeks of a man devoured by a
wasting illness, and the strong tinge of sunburn on them seemed to be
but an imperfect mark to a pallor that, fully visible, would have been
more terrible than that of a corpse. In his eyes there was a fixed
expression of ferocious grief that seemed mingled with ferocious anger,
as if he were suffering from some dreadful misery, and cursed himself
because he suffered, as a man may curse himself for doing a thing that
he chooses to do but need not do. Such an expression may sometimes be
seen in the eyes of those who are resisting a great temptation.

He began to search the garden, furtively but minutely. Sometimes he
hesitated. Sometimes he stood still. Then he turned back and went a
little way towards the wide sweep of sand that was bathed in sunlight
where the villa stood. Then with more determination, and walking
faster, he again made his way through the shadows that slept beneath
the densely-growing trees. As he passed between them he several times
stretched out trembling hands, broke off branches and threw them on the
sand, treading on them heavily and crushing them down below the surface.
Once he spoke to himself in a low voice that shook as if with difficulty
dominating sobs that were rising in his throat.

"_De profundis_--" he said. "_De profundis_--_de profundis_--"

His voice died away. He took hold of one hand with the other and went on
silently.

Presently he made his way at last towards the _fumoir_ in which Domini
was still sitting, with one hand resting on the open page whose words
had lit up the darkness in her spirit. He came to it so softly that she
did not hear his step. He saw her, stood quite still under the trees,
and looked at her for a long time. As he did so his face changed till he
seemed to become another man. The ferocity of grief and anger faded from
his eyes, which were filled with an expression of profound wonder, then
of flickering uncertainty, then of hard, manly resolution--a fighting
expression that was full of sex and passion. The guilty, furtive look
which had been stamped upon all his features, specially upon