Then, having relit the lantern, he set the spade into the ground, and
speedily removed the soil from the white face below. As he uncovered it,
the wind again extinguished the lantern, and there, to his amazement and
terror, was the face of Silencieux shining radiantly in the darkness.
The hole in which she lay brimmed over with light, as a spring wells
out of the hillside. Her face was almost transparent with brightness,
and presently she spoke low, with a voice sweeter than Antony had ever
heard before. It was the voice of that magic harp at the bottom of the
sea, it was the voice that had told him of her lovers, the voice of
hidden music that had cried "Resurgam" through the wood.
"Antony," she said, "sing me songs of little Wonder."
And, forgetting all but the magic of her voice, the ecstasy of being
hers again, Antony carried her with him to the chalet, and setting her
in her accustomed place, gazed at her with his whole soul.
"Sing me songs of little Wonder," she repeated.
"You bid me sing of little Wonder!" cried Antony, half in terror of this
beautiful evil face that drew him irresistibly as the moon, "you, who
took her from me!"
"Who but I should bid you sing of Wonder?" answered Silencieux.
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