Harmony moved lightly not to disturb her. She set her room in
order, fed the pigeons,--it was then she saw the carrier with its
message,--made her morning coffee by setting the tiny pot inside
the stove. And all the time, moving quietly through her morning
routine, she was there in that upper room in body only.
In soul she was again in the courtyard back of the old lodge, in
the Street of Seven Stars, with the rabbits stirring in the
hutch, and Peter, with rapt eyes, gazing out over the city. Bed,
toilet-table, coffee-pot, Peter; pigeons, rolls, Peter; sunrise
over the church roof, and Peter again. Always Peter!
Monia Reiff was stirring in the next room. Harmony could hear
her, muttering and putting coal on the stove and calling to the
Hungarian maid for breakfast. Harmony dressed hastily. It was one
of her new duties to prepare the workroom for the day. The
luminous streak above the church was rose now, time for the day
to begin.
She was not certain at once that some one had knocked at the
door, so faint was the sound.
She hesitated, listened. The knob turned slightly. Harmony,
expecting Monia, called "Come in."
It was the little Georgiev, very apologetic, rather gray of face.
He stood in the doorway with his finger on his lips, one ear
toward the stairway. It was very silent. Monia was drinking her
coffee in bed, whither she had retired for warmth.
"Pardon!" said the Bulgarian in a whisper.
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