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Merriman, Henry Seton, 1862-1903

"The Sowers"

"
"I am not _that_ sort of girl," answered Catrina coldly. "I want the
truth."
De Chauxville gave a short laugh and looked at her.
"Prophets and kings have sought the truth, mademoiselle, and have not
found it," he said lightly.
Catrina made no answer to this. Her ponies required considerable
attention. Also, there are some minds like large banking houses--not
dealing in small change. That which passes in or out of such minds has
its own standard of importance. Such people are not of much use in these
days, when we like to touch things lightly, adorning a tale but pointing
no moral.
"I would ask you to believe that your society was one incentive to make
me accept the countess's kind hospitality," the Frenchman observed after
a pause.
"And?"
De Chauxville looked at her. He had not met many women of solid
intellect.
"And?" repeated Catrina.
"I have others, of course."
Catrina gave a little nod and waited.
"I wish to be near Alexis," added De Chauxville.
Catrina was staring straight in front of her. Her face had acquired a
habit of hardening at the mention of Paul's name. It was stone-like now,
and set. Perhaps she might have forgiven him if he had loved her once,
if only for a little while. She might have forgiven him, if only for the
remembrance of that little while. But Paul had always been a man of set
purpose, and such men are cruel.


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