"Paul--what do you know of lovers--or love?" she said. "My baby Paul!"
"I know enough to know I know nothing yet which is worth knowing," he
said confusedly. "But--but--don't you understand, I want you to teach
me--"
"You are so sweet, Paul! when you plead like that I am taking in every
bit of you. In your way as perfect as this tiger. But we must
talk--oh! such a great, great deal--first."
A rage of passion was racing through Paul, his incoherent thoughts
were that he did not want to talk--only to kiss her--to devour her--to
strangle her with love if necessary.
He bit the rose.
"You see, Paul, love is a purely physical emotion," she continued. "We
could speak an immense amount about souls, and sympathy, and
understanding, and devotion. All beautiful things in their way, and
possible to be enjoyed at a distance from one another. All the things
which make passion noble--but without love--which _is_ passion--
these things dwindle and become duties presently, when the hysterical
exaltation cools. Love is _tangible_--it means to be close--close--
to be clasped--to be touching--to be One!"
Her voice was low--so concentrated as to be startling in contrast to
the drip of the rain outside, and her eyes--half closed and
gleaming--burnt into his brain.
Pages:
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72