 offence. But has it never occurred to your
sagacity that I just, simply, loved you?«
    »Just - simply,« she repeated in a wistful tone.
    »You didn't want to trouble your head about it, is that it?«
    »My poor head. From your tone one might think you yearned to cut it off. No,
my dear, I have made up my mind not to lose my head.«
    »You would be astonished to know how little I care for your mind.«
    »Would I? Come and sit on the couch all the same,« she said after a moment
of hesitation. Then, as I did not move at once, she added with indifference:
»You may sit as far away as you like, it's big enough, goodness knows.«
    The light was ebbing slowly out of the rotunda and to my bodily eyes she was
beginning to grow shadowy. I sat down on the couch and for a long time no word
passed between us. We made no movement. We did not even turn towards each other.
All I was conscious of was the softness of the seat which seemed somehow to
cause a relaxation of my stern mood, I won't say against my will but without any
will on my part. Another thing I was conscious of, strangely enough, was the
enormous brass bowl for cigarette ends. Quietly, with the least possible action,
Doña Rita moved it to the other side of her motionless person. Slowly, the
fantastic women with butterflies' wings and the slender-limbed youths with the
gorgeous pinions on their shoulders were vanishing into their black backgrounds
with an effect of silent discretion, leaving us to ourselves.
    I felt suddenly extremely exhausted, absolutely overcome with fatigue since
I had moved; as if to sit on that Pompeiian chair had been a task almost beyond
human strength, a sort of labour that must end in collapse. I fought against it
for a moment and then my resistance gave way. Not all at once but as if yielding
to an irresistible pressure (for I was not conscious of any irresistible
attraction) I found myself with my head resting, with a weight I felt must be
crushing, on Doña Rita's shoulder which yet did not give way, did not flinch at
all. A faint scent of violets filled the tragic emptiness of my head and it
seemed impossible to me that I should not cry from sheer weakness. But I
remained dry-eyed. I only felt myself slipping lower and lower and I caught her
round the waist clinging to her
