Then Regina was lying flat on the ledge above the girl, stretching both hands down and catching the slender white wrists with a hold like steel.  And then, feeling herself held and safe to move, the girl looked up, and Regina was looking into Aurora’s face below her.  For one instant the two did not recognise each other, for they had only seen each other once, by night, under the portico of the Theatre Francais.  But an instant later a flush of anger rose to Aurora’s forehead, and the dark woman turned pale, and her brows were suddenly level and stern.  They hated each other, as the one hung there held by the other’s hands, and the black eyes gazed savagely into the angry blue ones.  Aurora was not frightened any longer; she was angry because she was in Regina’s power.  The strong woman could save her if she would, and Aurora would despise herself ever afterwards for having been saved by her.  Or the strong woman could let her fall, and she would probably be maimed for life if she were not killed outright.  That seemed almost better.  She had never understood before what it could mean to be altogether in the power of an enemy.

Regina meant to save her; that was clear.  With quick, commanding words she told her what to do.

“Set your knees against the rock and pull yourself up a little by my hands.  So!  I can pull you higher now.  Get one knee well on that ledge.  Now I will hold your left hand with both mine while you disentangle your frock from the point.  Now put your right hand round my neck while I raise myself a little.  Yes, that way.  Now, hold on tight!”

Regina made a steady effort, lifting fully half Aurora’s weight with her, as she got first upon one knee and then upon both.

[Illustration:  “Regina made A steady effort, lifting fully half Aurora’s weight with her.”]

“There!  Take breath and then scramble over the edge,” she said.

A few seconds, another effort, and Aurora sank exhausted beside Regina, half sitting, half lying, and resting on one hand.

She looked up sideways at the dark woman’s face; for Regina stood upright, gazing down into the valley.  Aurora turned her eyes away, and then looked up again; she had recovered her breath now.

“Thank you,” she said, with an effort.

“It is nothing,” Regina answered in an indifferent tone, and without so much as moving her head; she was no more out of breath than if she had been sitting still.

The fair girl hated her at that moment as she had never hated any one in her short life, nor had ever dreamed of hating.  The flush of anger rose again and again to her forehead, to the very roots of her auburn hair, and lingered a second and sank again.  Regina stood perfectly motionless, her face as unchanging as marble.

Aurora rose to her feet, and leaned against the rock.  She had suddenly felt herself at a disadvantage in remaining seated on the ground while her adversary was standing.  It was the instinct of the animal that expects to be attacked.  When two people who hate each other or love each other very much meet without warning in a very lonely place, the fierce old passions of the stone age may take hold of them and sway them, even nowadays.