A lioness are you, oh, maid with the
Madonna face! No woman, but a creature of the wild, superb in courage
and unknown to fear! I saw it in your face that day in De Seviere,--the
something alien to the common race, the spark, the light; oh, I know
not what it is, save that it is Divine and yet splendidly of the earth!
We are matched in heart. Venturers both, and like true venturers we
shall take the longest trail with a laugh and our hands together,--and
trust to the Aftermath to give us largess of that love which has its
beginning in such glorious wise. Pledge me, oh, my Queen of the World!"
With a grace beyond compare he drew her into his arms, silent and
velvet soft, light and inimitable in his love way.
In utter astonishment Maren felt his silken curls sweep her cheek, his
lips on hers. Her tears were wet on his face. She put up her hands and
pushed him loose.
"M'sieu!" she said, "what do you do?"
"Do? Why, bow to the One Woman of my heart," he said; "my Maid of the
Red Flower, whom love has led to share my fate."
"In all pity! M'sieu, you do mistake most grievously!"
"What? Was it not confession at the post gate when this painted rabble
fell upon us? Or is it still the maiden within fearing the word of
love? In such short space, Sweetheart, there is no time for girlish
fears.
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