I was the postulant, dumb before the
mysteries; I adored without a thought. I was nothing, could be nothing, to
her but her lover--and now _she wants me, and I must go to her._
"For two years I was close to her side--either I or my words never left
her. She became humble, suffered me to lead her, opened to me her mind,
shared with me her secret thoughts. I told her the truth; I hid nothing
from the first. From the first day she knew that I loved her. There was no
presumption in this--I asked nothing, expected nothing. I told her often
that I looked forward to her wedded state--and then it came, and I was not
ready for it as it came. Horrible thing, her nobility was her punishment.
She has suffered, she suffers; _she wants me, and I must go to her._
"How am I to go, tied and bound as I am? What can I do? I have been false
to my vows. I belong in duty to another world, to another woman, who can
command me as she will. I don't know, I don't see. I know only one thing,
and see only her, calling me with her inflexibly grave eyes. _She wants
me, and I must go to her."_
He got up and left the Park. It was ten o'clock of an April morning.
Crocuses--her flowers--were blowing sideways under a south-west wind.
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