"
The woman did not know that she heard the prayer, for as her eyes saw a
picture, so did her ears listen to a voice which she had heard only
once, but desired beyond all things to hear again. To her it was the
voice of a saviour-knight; the face she saw was glorious with the
strength of manhood, and the light of love. Only to think of the voice
and face made her feel that she was coming to life again, after lying
dead and forgotten in a tomb for many years of silence.
Yes, she was alive now, for he had waked her from a sleep like death;
but she was still in the tomb, and it seemed impossible to escape from
it, even with the help of a saviour-knight. If she said "yes" to what he
asked, as she was trying to make herself believe she had a moral and
legal right to do, they would be found out and killed, that was all.
She was not brave. The lassitude which is a kind of spurious resignation
poisons courage, or quenches it as water quenches fire. Although she
hated her life, if it could be called life, had no pleasure in it, and
had almost forgotten how to hope, still she was afraid of being
violently struck down.
Not long ago a woman in the village had tried to leave her husband with
a man she loved. The husband found out, and having shot the man before
her eyes, stabbed her with many wounds, one for each traitorous kiss,
according to the custom of the desert; not one knife-thrust deep enough
to kill; but by and by she had died from the shock of horror, and loss
of blood.
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