Page:Storm Over Paris.pdf/163

positions for what seemed like a long while; then Rose lost all patience.

“Venez donc! Will you!” she cried out.

And when the young man still remained rooted to the spot, she moved impulsively closer to him, and like an angry cat, brought her flaming eyes close to his face. He could almost feel the heat of her heaving breasts, and her breath seemed to make his head swim. Now she was like all the wild daughters of Edom who lured the Israelites into their arms forcing their seed into their wombs that the heavens might break into rain and the parched earth made fruitful with wheat. He had an overpowering desire to carry into the grotto and ravish her, smashing her pride on the rock of his manhood. But as he fixed his gaze on a star shining through the trees, he felt the support of heaven, the strong arms of Jehovah pulling him away from this whore of Babylon. His mouth twisted into contemptuous smile, and she caught the insult on his lips.

"What you are looking for is probably a modest, virtuous woman, Monsieur Shechter." She withered him with a glance. "Just a pure, virginal Jewish girl. Someone untouched and unstained. Well," her voice rose to a shriek, "I'm afraid I must tell you that you've made a wrong guess. You've come to the wrong place, Monsieur Shechter, do you hear me?"

Rose turned on her heels and, without even a "Good Night," began to run down the hill toward the water's edge. Deep within her she felt that she had suffered a terrible moral defeat: the man she despised had rejected her as a common whore!

Leaning against a tree, the young man gazed after her. His hat fell from his nervous hand. Two young girls who were passing by, ogled him and laughed in their high voices.