Hilarius held his breath; it was as if she did to death some living
thing, and yet he dared not bid her stay her insolent feet.
It was done; and she looked at him under questioning brows.
"So much for thy lilies! Dost still think that it will soil thy
brush to limn such an one as I? I, whom men call the Queen of
Love--but thy lips, say they, burnt with another name! Bethink
thee, faint heart, there is not a man in all this city but would
count death a small price to pay for my favours; and I ask of thee
one little service, and thou shalt name thine own reward. Surely
'tis churlish to gainsay!"
Her voice was suddenly sweet.
Stooping, she gathered to her the destruction she had wrought,
fingering the fallen petals tenderly, with a little sigh. She
glanced up at Hilarius through her lashes' net. "Maybe I was over
hasty," she said softly, and a sob swelled the round of her
wonderful throat--"and yet how couldst thou call me wanton?" Her
mouth drooped a little--she was very fair.
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