"I only asked you to come with me," she repeated softly. "There is
nothing supernatural about that. When I saw that you did not believe me
I did not try to lead you then, though she is waiting for you. She bade
me bring you to her."
"You have seen her? You have talked with her? She sent you? Oh, for
God's sake, come quickly!--come, come!"
He put out his hand as though to take hers and lead her away. She
grasped it eagerly. He had not seen that she had drawn off her glove. He
was lost. Her eyes held him and her fingers touched his bare wrist. His
lids drooped and his will was hers. In the intolerable anxiety of the
moment he had forgotten to resist, he had not even thought of resisting.
There were great blocks of stone in the desolate place, landed there
before the river had frozen for a great building, whose gloomy,
unfinished mass stood waiting for the warmth of spring to be completed.
She led him by the hand, passive and obedient as a child, to a sheltered
spot and made him sit down upon one of the stones. It was growing dark.
"Look at me," she said, standing before him, and touching his brow. He
obeyed.
"You are the image in my eyes," she said, after a moment's pause.
"Yes. I am the image in your eyes," he answered in a dull voice.
"You will never resist me again, I command it. Hereafter it will be
enough for me to touch your hand, or to look at you, and if I say,
'Sleep,' you will instantly become the image again.
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