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Fairless, Michael, 1869-1901

"Gathering of Brother Hilarius"

Hear me, thou prating, milk-faced
Modesty, I choose that thou shalt limn this face of mine: say me
nay, and I will teach thee a lesson hard of forgetting; for I will
silence thy preaching for aye, and lend my serving-men to whip thee
through the streets. Men, said I? Nay, thou art too much a cur to
make fit sport for men: rather my maids shall wield the rod and
lace thy shoulders."
She flung herself on a low couch by the open window, where the
peacocks on the terrace strutted in the sun; and Hilarius waited,
dumb as the dog to which she had likened him, for he had no word.
There was silence a while.
Then the Princess spoke, and her voice cut Hilarius like the sting
of a lash:-
"Bring me yon flowers."
He obeyed.
"Set them at my feet."
He bent his knee and did so, wondering.
A moment, and she trod them under; their dying fragrance filled the
air, as their living breath had flooded the senses of the blind-
eyed lad at the Monastery gate.
One by one she set her heel upon the blossoms, and the marble was
yellow with stolen gold.


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