It had always seemed to
her a sunny paradise of peace until this moment. But now she felt as if
she were compassed about by clouds.
The vagrant movement of the butterflies irritated her eyes, the distant
sound of the flute distressed her ears, and all the peace had gone. Once
again this man destroyed the spell Nature had cast upon her. Because
she knew that he had lied, her joy in the garden, her deeper joy in the
desert that embraced it, were stricken. Yet why should he not lie? Which
of us does not lie about his feelings? Has reserve no right to armour?
She heard her companions entering the room and turned round. At that
moment her heart was swept by an emotion almost of hatred to Androvsky.
Because of it she smiled. A forced gaiety dawned in her. She sat down on
one of the low divans, and, as she asked Count Anteoni for a cigarette
and lit it, she thought, "How shall I punish him?" That lie, not even
told to her and about so slight a matter, seemed to her an attack which
she resented and must return. Not for a moment did she ask herself if
she were reasonable. A voice within her said, "I will not be lied to,
I will not even bear a lie told to another in my presence by this man.
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