he turned
and ran from the curtain, clasping her cloak to her bosom and running,
stumbling, out of the room, the house, the street.

The promenades were gay with people and crowded. The men strutting
along in their Sunday clothes, the women hanging on their arms, the
children toddling behind. The band was playing on the square. It was
warm and the sun was shining; the air was sweet with the scent of the
rose buds.

Kaya fled past them all like a wraith. They turned and stared after
her, but she was gone. She climbed the stairs of the mill to the roof,
and opened the door, and shut it again, and fell on her knees before
the box. The pitcher was there without a handle, and the basin
cracked. She lifted them away and opened the box.

In it lay a velveteen jacket folded, a scarf, scarlet and spotted.
Inside the scarf lay a mass of coins, copecks, ten, twenty--hundreds of
them, and roubles round and heavy. She fingered them tenderly, one
after the other, then thrust them aside.

"To-morrow--" she said, "I have come to that--to live on a gypsey's
wages! I can sing no longer; I can only dance and pass the cap--and
give the copecks for bread--for bread! I thought some day when I was
old,--when we were both old, I would show them to--Velasco, and he
would remember and laugh: 'Ah, that was long ago,' he would say, 'when
I was a boy, and you were a boy, and we tramped together through the
cold and the snow--and I loved you, and you--loved me! Ah--it was
sweet, Kaya! I have lived a long life since then, with plenty of fame,
and success, and happiness--and the years have been full; but nothing
quite so sweet as that! Nothing--quite so sweet--as that!'"

She was sobbing now and staring into the box: "To-morrow," she said, "I
will buy some bread and feed the doves--and soon it will be gone!" She
began to count the coins rapidly, dropping them through her fingers
into the scarf; and as she counted she smiled through her tears.

"We earned it together--he and I!" she said, "He played and I danced.
He would like me to live on it as long as I can, and then--after
that--he will not--blame me!"

Her body swayed slightly and she fell forward against the box. The sun
shone on the geraniums; and on the sill, the doves pecked at the
worm-eaten casement, clinging to the ivy with their tiny claws, gazing
about with their bright, roving eyes and cooing.

Below, the water splashed against the wheel; but it was silent.