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Merriman, Henry Seton, 1862-1903

"The Sowers"

"
She glanced at his broad face, and read nothing there.
"Go on," she said. "What have I been doing now? How you do hate me, Herr
Steinmetz!"
"Perhaps it is safer than loving you," he answered, with his grim humor.
"I suppose," she said, with a quaint little air of resignation which was
very disarming, "that you have come here to scold me--you do not want
any tea?"
"No; I do not want any tea."
She turned the wick of the spirit-lamp, and the peaceful music of the
samovar was still. In her clever eyes there was a little air of sidelong
indecision. She could not make up her mind how to take him. Her chiefest
method was so old as to be biblical. Yet she could not take him with her
eyelids. She had tried.
"You are horribly grave," she said.
"The situation," he replied, "is horribly grave."
Etta looked up at him as he stood before her, and the lamp-light,
falling on the perfect oval of her face, showed it to be white and
drawn.
"Princess," said the man, "there are in the lives of some of us times
when we cease to be men and women, and become mere human beings. There
are times, I mean, when the thousand influences of sex die at one blow
of fate. This is such a time. We must forget that you are a beautiful
woman; I verily believe that there is none more beautiful in the world.
I once knew one whom I admired more, but that was not because she was
more beautiful.


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