Some day I shall know all things, but
never again shall I know the perfect beauty of this day. Some day I
shall know the reason for this and for that, why I made a bad step here
and a short one there; but never again, this hour." He picked up a
chestnut-bur and opened it, extending the plump chestnuts to her.
How delicately this man was telling her that he still loved her!
Absently her hand closed over the chestnuts, and the thought in her
eyes was far away. If only it had been written that she might love him!
"Monsieur de Saumaise," said Anne, "will you take me to the pool? You
told me that it would make a fine mirror, and I have not seen my face
in so long a time that I declare I have quite forgotten how it looks."
"Come along, Mademoiselle; into the heart of the wood. I had a poem to
recite to you, but I have forgotten part of it. It is heroic, and
begins like this:
"_Laughing at fate and her chilling frown,
Plunging through wilderness, cavern, and cave,
Building the citadel, fortress, and town,
Fearing nor desert, the sea, nor the grave:
Courage finds her a niche in the knave,
Fame is not niggard with laurel or pain;
Pathways with blood and bones do they pave:
These are the hazards that kings disdain!_
"_Bright are the jewels they add to the crown,
Levied on savage and pilfered from slave:
Under the winds and the suns that brown,
Fearing nor desert, the sea, nor the grave!
High shall the Future their names engrave,
For these are lives that are not spent in vain,
Though their reward be a tomb 'neath the wave.
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