"
The girl drew from her bosom a little piece of folded parchment and
held it out towards him.
"You wrote me these verses. My elders tell me that poets say much
and mean little; that their oaths are like gingerbread, as hot and
sweet in the mouth and as easily swallowed. 'Are you such a one?"
Villon rose to his feet. He knew that this exquisite presence was
flesh and biood; that her speech was human speech. He answered her
very gravely--
"My words are life. I love you!"
"Just because I show a smooth face?"
A great wave of rapture swept over the poet's soul and his brain
seemed as busy with words as a hive with bees. He spoke slowly like
a man inspired.
"Because you are the loveliest she alive. If all my dreams of
loveliness had been pieced together into one perfect woman she would
have been like you. All my life I have read tales of love and tried
to find their secret in the bright eyes about me--tried and failed.
I might as well have been seeking for the Holy Grail. But when I saw
you the old Heaven and the old Earth seemed to shrivel away and I
knew what love might mean, and God-like desire and God-like
surrender.
Pages:
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69