Anne stirred uneasily. One slim, bare arm emerged from beneath the satin coverlet and wavered towards her face. The depths of her exhausted sleep, suddenly violated, rippled and broke. Returning consciousness beat against her like a gusty wave. She sat up in bed and looked towards the open window in puzzled astonishment. To her amazement, it was already daylight, and the raucous cry of a motor siren was shrilling stridently.

With a sickening thud, recollection fell upon her. She sprang out of bed and ran towards the open window. Hiding behind the heavy curtains, she gazed down onto the snow-covered driveway below. As she had expected, there was Ellen’s car, and in a little group on the terrace above it, was Ellen, herself, surrounded by the others. They were bidding an effusive farewell to Alexis, who, with his back turned toward the house, stood hatless and coatless at the top of the steps.

He will catch cold again, thought Anne, as with chattering teeth she wound the heavy curtain about her. Oh, why don’t they hurry? Her eyes fell upon the thick-set figure of the Spaniard. Caldenas! She shook with inward amusement. What is he doing in this galÈre?

Hat jammed over his face, Gerald Boynton leaned close to Ellen’s massive shoulders, whispering in her ear. They turned, and raking the far side of the house, eyed Anne’s balconied window. Beneath the vulture-like stare, Anne shivered and concealed herself more closely within the enfolding curtain.

Olive Fay, small, fur-clad, clung limply to Alexis’ arm.

“Bye-bye, Mr. Petrovskey, I’m just furious we’ve got to beat it so early. Bother these rehearsals, anyway!” Her tone shrilled up to Anne on the icy air. “You won’t forget that box you promised me for your concert, will you? I’m not strong for the high-brow stuff, but I’ve certainly fallen for you, and it’ll give the dear public a shock to see me in Carnegie Hall.” She sprang nimbly down the steps and hopped into the motor. Flesh-colored stockings gleamed upon rounded calves.

“Yes, we shall all be there, en masse,” drawled Ellen, one foot upon the running-board. “You may count upon us!” Her voice raised maliciously, she fastened her eyes upon Anne’s windows.

As the car swung around the driveway, Caldenas, a cherubic smile upon his round face, leaned out recklessly. His eyes were fixed ecstatically upon the house. “It is a gem,” he was shouting lustily. “Un pocito palacio.”

An odd smile upon her face, Anne closed the window softly. She envied the little Spaniard his absent-minded imperviousness. What a boon! Would the gods had seen fit to grant it to her also! With a shrug she went into the bathroom and turned on the faucet behind the dolphin’s head. Like a shower of gleaming crystal the water spouted on to the tiles. Chilled to the marrow, a hot bath would send the generous blood once more flowing in her congealed veins. The steam encircled her, with its warm, comforting breath. Her sheer nightgown fell around her feet like a discarded sheath. She sank slowly into the frothing stream. It lapped against her chin like the warm tongue of an affectionate dog. As she went through the mechanical ritual, her thoughts perused the events of the past night. It was sheer madness for Alexis to have come to her door. Disregarding entirely the danger from eavesdroppers, the action had been in atrocious taste. Had he expected her to receive him as if nothing had happened? The very idea was a degradation. It made her feel soiled, ill at ease, galled with the entire situation. He had shown no sense of delicacy whatsoever. And yet—was she perhaps being a little hard on him? After all, he was very young and very much in love? But he ought to have known better, and she would have to teach him. She stepped out of the bath and started to rub herself briskly. The exhilarating glow of her blood coursed through her comfortingly. Nevertheless, she decided to go home that very morning, instead of waiting until the following day as she had planned. After all, she was no longer in the mood to stay. Her nerves were irritable, frayed. The fine ecstasy of sacrifice entirely gone.

She thrust her head deftly through the elliptical opening of a nÉgligÉe. It fell in caressing folds to her feet. An underglow of turquoise chiffon showed against the sheer black, through which her skin gleamed like alabaster. With a feminine glance into the mirror, she reËntered the bedroom and ordered her breakfast over the house wire. “Yes, please, coffee, fruit and toast.” Her tones were briskly business-like.

Then she slipped back into bed.

A few minutes later a clatter of dishes approached down the hall, followed by a knock.

“Come in,” called Anne languidly.

The door broke open unceremoniously and Alexis burst in with the breakfast tray.

“Alexis!” Completely off her guard, Anne blushed crimson.

He pranced over to the table and deposited the tray upon it. “‘Enfin seuls!’” His face was radiant. “Thank God, they had rehearsals and had to rush off early.”

“Yes, I know,” said Anne. “I watched them leave from the window.”

He laughed excitedly. “Wouldn’t they have been furious if they had guessed?”

“But they did! I saw them looking up to my opened windows and whispering.”

He sat down upon the bed and falling upon her hands covered them with kisses. “What do we care?”

Her laugh was angry. She happened to care a great deal.

“Insane boy, what possessed you to bring up my breakfast? What will Jules think?”

“That you have a devoted cousin!” His joyous laugh rang out again. He cupped her face in his long fingers and leaned over her hotly. “What do we care what he thinks? He is a good old soul, and well paid to keep his mouth shut. Besides, after your sudden disappearance of last night, he probably suspects the beautiful worst.”

Anne’s face clouded. She drew away from the caressing fingers.

“Yes, probably, unless he’s a complete fool,” she commented dryly. The tide of irritation flowed over her.

Alexis sensed her frigid mood. His face became suddenly miserable. He went over to the table, picked up the tray and laid it across her knees.

“Here, dearest. Drink your coffee before it gets cold. Shall I pour it for you?”

“No, thank you.” She tipped the pot and the brown liquid issued into the cup in a tubular stream. Its fragrance permeated the room. “Alexis?”

“Yes, darling?” There was apprehension in his voice.

She sipped her coffee slowly. “I’ve decided to go back to New York this morning.”

A dark flush tinted his pale cheeks. “So you are angry!”

He walked over to the window and looked out upon the whitened lawns. Her eyes followed him coldly.

“Oh, no, I’m not angry, only shall we say, a little out of mood?”

He turned and faced her. He looked pitiful, an animal at bay.

“But Anne, is that reasonable? Is that fair? Was it my fault last night? The intrusion was abominable and probably premeditated. I loathed it as much as you. I did my best to shield you, and, after all, they went away without discovering anything, didn’t they?”

Her lips curled mockingly.

“They may not have actually caught a glimpse of me in the flesh, but their suspicions were practically confirmed.” She bit savagely into a piece of toast.

“So you are going to make me suffer?” He strode back from the window and threw himself into a chair beside the bed.

“Not at all. Only, as I said before, I’m no longer in the mood to stay. Surely, I have the privilege of changing my mind?” Putting aside the tray, she thrust her bare arms behind her gleaming head. Her beauty was insolent. A flame of desire, of hatred, and of anguish, scorched him. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

“You are cruel. I could almost hate you! Why do you want to torture me? Wasn’t last night enough?”

“Last night?”

He raised his head and looked into her eyes. “Yes, last night. When you refused to let me in I returned to my room and threw myself upon the bed and lay there all night. I went through hell. Unsatisfied, burning for you in every fiber of my body. All the old madness, the dread, the fear, came back upon me like a nightmare, and for a week, ever since I saw you last, I had dreamed of something so different.”

A gleam of pity crept into Anne’s eyes. She averted them quickly.

“You certainly did not expect me to receive you here with those people in the house?” she said less coldly. “I could not understand your coming to me that way. It offended me, Alexis.”

“If you really loved me, you never would have thought of that. You would have forgotten those others as quickly as I did. The moment I left them in their rooms I thought only of you, my Anne, my beautiful one. But even then I waited for what seemed like an eternity.” He flung himself upon his knees and buried his face in the coverlet.

“Oh, Anne, it never occurred to me that you would feel that way. You had already given yourself to me, dearest, and we had both so looked forward to being together in this house. Our love was so hemmed in, so incomplete in New York. This was to be our refuge, where we could enjoy a security almost as wonderful as if we were married.”

A smile twisted Anne’s lips into a downward curve. “It was very secure, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t be cruel. Last night was only an incident. It won’t occur again. Not a soul except Rosenfield knows where I am. He even forwards my mail.”

“I wonder how Ellen discovered us, then? Is Rosenfield bribeable?”

“Of course not! Perhaps Karzimova’s press agent gave it away. Any way, let’s forget it. I’m sure they would never dare to come out again. You’re too valuable a friend for Ellen to risk when her blood is cooled off!”

His sudden astuteness amused her.

“Perhaps you are right.”

He pursued his advantage hastily. “We could be so happy, if you would only let us. If you don’t love me I simply don’t want to go on living. I was literally in hell when you discovered me, I am your creature. Even my music came back only because of you. And now you want to destroy me!”

The little, wry smile once more curved her lips. She laid her hand upon the rumpled head lying so close to her breast. “You demand a great deal, my Alexis,” she murmured.

He raised his head and met her quizzical eyes proudly. “I demand only what I supposed you were willing to give! If you don’t want to stay I shall not keep you against your will. I suppose I can go back to the devil again after all. I ought to know the way!” he finished with boyish fury and despair.

Anne capitulated, with amusement and despair. Taking his hand in hers, she pressed it softly. Her eyes were maternal.

“What a baby you are, Alexis.”

“You are going to stay!” He sat down upon the bed and fell upon her with ravenous kisses. His arms closed about her.

“Yes, I am going to stay,” she gasped, breathless from the onslaught. She suddenly felt old and worn. Tired to the core. Would he always wear down her resistance like this? She pushed him away almost feebly.

“And now, will you let me get up, please? It is too beautiful a day to remain in bed.”

“I don’t want to go out. I want to stay here,” he whispered, his rebellious lips upon her neck.

A little tremor thrilled through her tired body. “No, Alexis, you don’t understand. Not in this room. Not here,” she pleaded against his ear. “I—I can’t bear this room.”

Taken by surprise, he released her and regarded her in dejected astonishment.

“Why, Anne, do you dislike it as much as all that? Does it really make you unhappy?”

She nodded.

“Why, darling, if I had only known that, I should never have put you here. Of course, it’s a bit rococo, I admit, but on the other hand, I didn’t feel any of the others were good enough for you.”

“Oh, yes, they are.” She nodded with renewed vigor. “If you want me to forget last night, give me another room, Alexis. Something wholesome and simple. Free of associations with Karzimova. Is there anything in the house like that?”

He looked at her with reverence. Beneath each new leaf that this woman unfolded her heart showed more undefiled. Bursting with tenderness, he touched his lips to her hand like a worshipper.

“Of course there is a room like that, dearest and best. A room that will just suit you. Its walls are painted a soft yellow. The chintzes are gay, and the sun pours in at the windows all day long. With it goes a white tiled bathroom of impeccable respectability.”

They laughed gayly. She sat up and clapped her hands.

“Just what I want. The chaste, white tiles of the great American middle classes are good enough for me. I will get up immediately and dress, and then you can help me move my things.”

He looked at her with passionate protest. “Must you dress?”

“Of course!” She slipped a slim white leg out of the bed and pulled the sheer black negligee down over it quickly.

With the swiftness of a hawk, he swooped down upon her foot and kissed it. His lips brushed across the curving instep, the adorable little hollow of the arch. Then he placed it upon his head with a flourish. “A slave passes beneath the triumphal arch, oh Queen!”

“Stop it this minute! You are tickling me, monster!”

She drew her foot put of the curly hair with a slight shiver, only to have him snatch it once more to his lips.

“What makes your heel so pink? Do you rouge it?” He looked up at her with an impertinent grin.

A twinkle in her eye, she shook her head vigorously. “Of course not.”

“Is it just natural for it to be so wonderful? And the little toes so pink and cunning, too?” Her polished toe-nails gleamed rosily up at him. He put on her black satin mule lingeringly. “Now give me the other foot.”

She held it out with a low laugh. “Same ceremony, lest it should feel slighted!”

“Now you must go this minute,” she stood up and gave him a little push.

He adopted an injured air. “I’m going to stay and help you dress.”

“No you’re not, my friend.” Her smile was determined. “Out you go this moment.” Slipping her arm in his, she led him to the door. His cheeks flushed hotly, he made a desperate attempt to embrace her, but she eluded him nimbly.

“No, no, bad one! I don’t intend to spend an exotic, temperamental morning. I want to go out and take a walk or something. The snow and the sunshine make me think of the Engadine.”

He sighed loudly, and then brightened. After all, Anne was here, and she had promised to stay until to-morrow, at least. It was hardly decent to hurry her.

“Very well, we’ll do anything you wish. How would you like to toboggan? There’s a splendid hill right here in the grounds and I came upon an old sled in the basement the other day.”

“Oh, I should love that!” She clasped her hands with genuine enthusiasm.

He smiled delightedly. “And then there is an old inn, I believe it was a mill once, where we might lunch or tea. It is very out of the way and quite safe.”

“That sounds very gay. Hurry up and go, dear. I just can’t wait to toboggan. Do you suppose we’ll kill ourselves?” She pushed him out into the hall and continued laughingly: “I’ll leave my door open while I dress and you can play to me, will you? You know you won’t have another chance to practice to-day.”

“Slave driver! Female Svengali!” he chuckled happily. “Trilby hastens to obey.”

A few moments later the exquisite wail of the violin drifted up the stairs. A contented smile upon her lips, Anne slipped hastily into her lingerie. The joy of the creator pulsed within her.

The day proved a huge success. Smooth as an uncrumpled rose-leaf, it unfolded itself for the lovers without a hint of the hectic jealousy, the frenzied bickering that Anne had learned to dread. The hills were steep and possessed of a real thrill. Their happy shrieks rang out as they tumbled over each other on to the crisp, blue-shadowed snow.

Followed a quiet lunch at home, ensparkled by a bubbling old red wine, which Anne had brought on purpose from her own cellar. Then a drive over glistening roads under the snow-hung trees, after which they partook of tea at the quaint, deserted old inn, where Anne extravagantly purchased the entire stock of Spanish pottery and other useless, but amusing trifles.

After dinner, Alexis played and Anne accompanied him at the piano. The music rose, a frenzied crescendo. It strung their quivering senses higher and ever higher to a bliss almost unbearable, a culmination of rapture that was pain. Their souls blent in a single ecstasy. As the last quivering notes died into silence, Anne rose from the piano.

“That is enough,” she whispered hoarsely. “I cannot bear any more.”

Alexis laid his violin in the case with his usual mechanical care. He approached Anne slowly. Their glances mingled like two fires. Extending their arms in a single gesture, they melted against each other in a violent embrace.

In her new chaste, little room, Anne undressed with trembling fingers. The virginal panic which renewed itself at each contact with Alexis seized upon her like a species of stage-fright.

But when he came, it vanished beneath the fervor of his kisses.

They shared a communion so perfect, an ecstasy so deep that it resembled death. When they recovered from the swoon, Alexis laid his head upon Anne’s shoulder like a weary child.

“I want to sleep with my head upon your breast. I want to lie beside you all night, just as if we were married, just as if I had the right,” he sobbed.

Anne soothed him, as a woman soothes the child at her breast, and presently he slept. But she lay awake beside him for a long time, staring out into the moonlit night, savoring her love, her compassion, her sacrifice.