uh. The two friends contrasted strikingly with each other. After that consolations fled. She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent. She winked at him as he shut the door. You will be—my wife. Now, Sir. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. She had killed him.
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