That moment had been like
the moment upon the tower when she saw below her the Jewess dancing upon
the roof for the soldiers, a black speck settling for an instant upon
whiteness, then carried away by a purifying wind. She knew that she
would always be subject to such moments so long as she was a human
being, that there would always be in her blood something that was
self-willed. Otherwise, would she not be already in Paradise? She sat
and prayed for strength in the battle of life, that could never be
anything else but a battle.
At last something within her told her to look up, to look out through
the window-space into the garden. She had not heard a step, but she
knew that Androvsky was approaching, and, as she looked up, she prepared
herself for a sight that would be terrible. She remembered his face when
he came to bid her good-bye in the garden, and she feared to see his
face now. But she schooled herself to be strong, for herself and for
him.
He was near her on the path coming towards her. As she saw him she
uttered a little cry and stood up. An immense surprise came to her,
followed in a moment by an immense joy--the greatest joy, she thought,
that she had ever experienced.
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