"Oh, my beloved! I have thought of naught else since I saw you. I
have heard your pretty feet and the rustle of your tunic in my dreams;
I have felt the touch of your hands; every moment I have seen your
face--now glowing with happiness, now white and lovely with sorrow.
And, dear, I love its sorrow--I confess to you that I love its sorrow
better than its happiness. I saw in your sad eyes, then, a thing
dearer than their beauty. It told me that you felt as I feel--that you
would live and, if need be, die for the love of me."
The girl listened thoughtfully, and moved close to her lover; he took
her in his arms. She had dreamed of many things to say, but now she
only whispered to him, her lips against his ear, the simple message: "I
love you, I love you, I love you." Then: "But I forgot," said she,
pushing him away, a note of fear in her voice. She straightened the
folds of her tunic, and drew the transparent silk close to her full,
white bosom. It was all unconscious as the trick of a wooing bird.
"And what did you forget?" he inquired.
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