"By God!" he exclaimed, "I'd kiss you, Cleone, on that scornful,
laughing mouth, only--I love you--and this is a solitude. Come away!"
"A solitude," she repeated; "yes, and he sent me here, to meet a
beast--a satyr! And now--you! You drove away the other brute, oh! I
can't struggle--you are too strong--and nothing matters now!" And so
she sighed, and closed her eyes. Then gazing down upon her rich,
warm beauty, Barnabas trembled, and loosed her, and sprang to his
feet.
"I think," said he, turning away to pick up his cudgel, "I think--we
had--better--go."
But my lady remained crouched upon her knees, gazing up at him under
her wet lashes.
"You didn't--kiss me!" she said, wonderingly.
"You were so--helpless!" said Barnabas. "And I honor you because it
was--your brother."
"Ah! but you doubted me first, you thought I came here to meet
that--beast!"
"Forgive me," said Barnabas, humbly.
"Why should I?"
"Because I love you."
"So many men have told me that," she sighed.
"But I," said Barnabas, "I am the last, and it is written 'the last
shall be first,' and I love you because you are passionate, and pure,
and very brave.
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