And, last, more than once, there had
crept back to Rheims, borne on a litter all the way from the coast, the
phantom of a man who a year or two ago had played "cat" and shouted at
the play--now a bent man, grey-haired, with great scars on wrists and
ankles.... _Te Deums_ had been sung in the college chapel when the news
of the deaths had come: there were no _requiems_ for such as these; and
the place of the martyr in the refectory was decked with flowers....
Robin had seen these things, and wondered whether his place, too, would
some day be so decked.
For Marjorie, then, he felt nothing but a happy friendliness, and a real
delight when he thought of seeing her again. It was glorious, he
thought, that she had done so much; that her name was in all men's
mouths. And he had thought, when he had first gone to Rheims, that he
would do all and she nothing! He had written to her then, freely and
happily. He had told her that she must give him shelter some day, as she
was doing for so many.
Meanwhile it was pleasant to hear her praises.
"'Eve would be Eve,'" quoted Mr. Charnoc presently, in speaking of pious
women's obstinacy, "'though Adam would say Nay.'"
* * * * *
Then, at last, when Mr. Charnoc said that he must be leaving for his own
lodgings, and stood up; once more upon Robin's heart there fell the
horrible memory of all that he had heard upstairs.
CHAPTER II
I
It was strange to Robin to walk about the City, and to view all that he
saw from his new interior position.
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