He touched his face with his hands, opened and shut his
lips, then thrust his hands into his pockets, and stared first at
Artois then at the floor. His cheeks and his forehead looked hot, as
if he had just finished some difficult physical act. Artois did not
glance at him. In that moment both men, in their different ways, felt
dreadfully, almost unbearably, self-conscious.
Presently Vere's step was heard again on the stairs, descending softly
and slowly. She came in and went at once to Artois.
"Madre doesn't answer."
Artois got up.
"What ought we to do?"
Vere was whispering.
"Did you hear anything?"
"No."
Gaspare moved, took his hands violently out of his pockets, then
thrust them in again.
Artois stood in silence. His face, generally so strong, so
authoritative, showed his irresolution, and Vere, looking to him like
a frightened child for guidance, felt her terror increase.
"Shall I go up again. I didn't knock. You told me not to. Shall I go
and knock? Or shall Gaspare go again?"
She did not suggest that Artois should go himself.
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