“Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. The cook tried to ply her with spiced meat and fish soup. It was a refusal of expediency, he said, and not an absolute refusal. " "No. . “Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. 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 could not explain in words why they disappointed her or that she was disappointed. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. ” He left at once, immensely relieved, yet scarcely satisfied with himself as regarded his share of the interview with this young woman. Her anger died and she eyed him. “What year was 221 that, about 1350?” He asked in wonderment.
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