CHAPTER XLI
LOVE OR COMRADESHIP?"I knew thou wouldst come," she said in French, as he caught those outstretched hands in his.
She looked pale and worn, as was natural,--but lovelier than ever, as she stood, a shadowy figure in her dark gown against the gloom behind her, for there was no light within the synagogue. The lurid glare from without shed an unearthly radiance on her white face and shining hair.
"I am not alone," he said. "Maurice Wynn is with me; and the good Mishka and his father."
She glanced at me doubtfully, and then held out her hand, flashing at me the ghost of her old arch smile.
"It is Maurice, indeed; how the beard has changed you,--and the uniform! I did not know you," she said, still in French. "But come; there is still much to do, and we must be gone before dayli
