"
She put her hands on my knees in her impulsive way, and bending
forward looked at me delightedly.
"Oh, you do think so?"
"You are the loveliest and most intoxicating creature on the
earth, Carlotta."
"Now I am sure, sure, sure," she cried, enraptured. "You have
never said it before, Seer Marcous darling, and I must kiss you."
I checked her with my hands on her soft shoulders.
"Only if you promise to marry me."
"Of course," said Carlotta.
She said it as thoughtlessly and light-heartedly as if I had
asked her to come out for a walk. Again I felt the odd spasm of
pain. In my late madness I had often pictured the scene: how I
should hold her throbbing beauty in my arms, my senses clouded
with the fragrance of her, and how, in burning words, I should
pour out the litany of my passion. But to the gods it seemed
otherwise. No Quaker maiden's betrothal kiss was chaster. Cold
grew the fever in my veins and the litany died on my lips.
Who and what is she whom I love? There have been days when her
eyes have carried in their depths the allurements of a sorceress,
when her limbs have woven Venusberg enchantments which it has
taken all my strength to withstand.
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