Go back and
rest, dear, till those brutes come down. Give me your hand again,
Fatalite, _bien aimee! gardez-vous, mais gardez-vous_!"

She answered him steadily. "_A demain_. _Adieu, mon ami_. Ride as
quickly as you can, but lead your horse for the first few minutes."

CHAPTER XXIII

"Le jeu est fait, rien ne vas plus!"

He was gone, and Arithelli was back in the hut again, and now the worst
of it all was still to come. If Vardri was to have a fair start she
must wait out the hour alone, realising every moment of the time what
awaited her at the end of it.

A mad impulse seized her to rush up the steps to the loft, interrupt
the meeting, defy them all and boast how she had schemed her lover's
escape, and laugh at them and their plots, goad them into shooting her
at once and finishing it all quickly. She felt that she could not
endure any more suspense and strain. Anything would be better than
this interminable, awful waiting in the semi-darkness and loneliness,
with neither friend nor lover at hand, no single human to take her part
or defend her. Emile had gone and now Vardri, and she must face
everything alone. If she waited Vardri would have perhaps half an
hour's grace and while they were dealing with her it would give him
still another few minutes, and every minute counted.

She fought down the temptation, and began to move about, speaking to
the mules and, horses, taking down saddles and bridles. She must not
be too quiet, or they might suspect something, and come down sooner to
see if she were still there. She must pretend to be busy, play out the
play to the end.

She unhooked the lantern from its nail and placed it on the ground, and
then stood still again to listen.

The smothered hum of voices grew louder overhead. It stopped suddenly,
and she could only hear Sobrenski's slow, incisive tones. No doubt
they were listening to him as to one inspired while he preached his
gospel of destruction. Arithelli shivered, pressing her hands over her
ears that she might shut out the sound of that hated voice that had
bidden her outrage her sex.

She stumbled towards the bed of hay, still warm with the impress of her
own figure, and flung herself upon it face downwards and lay there
whispering to herself over and over again Vardri's name as one whispers
a charm.

Would he forget her one of these days and marry someone else? Had it
been real, anything of this that she had lived through d