"
She raised her beautiful eyes to his face and waited for him to
proceed. The pose of the head was exactly what he wanted. Rapidly he
compared every detail of her face with his memory of the statue of
Athor, noting with satisfaction that his studies had been happily
faithful. His scrutiny was so swift and skilful that there seemed to
be nothing unusual in his gaze.
"I am culpable but impenitent," he continued. "I shall not forswear
mine offense. Neither is there any need of a plea to justify myself,
for my very sin is its own justification. Behold me! I perched myself
like a sacred hawk at the mouth of the valley and filched thy likeness.
Do with me as thou wilt, but I shall die reiterating approval of my
deed."
His extravagant speech wrought an interesting change on the face before
him. There was a pronounced curve of her mouth, a slight tension in
the chiseled nostril--in fact, an indefinable disdain that had not been
there before. It would become Athor well. Kenkenes understood the
look but he did not flinch. Instead he let his head drop slowly until
he looked at her from under his brows. Then he summoned into his eyes
all the wounded feeling, pathos, soft reproach and appeal, of which his
graceless young heart was capable, and gazed at her.
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