“We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. 1. " "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling. They were wed in Florence, in the grandest cathedral she had ever seen, the Santa Maria del Fiore. Then he entered her passionately, riding her with exquisite precision. Joyous, she felt the need of physical expression; and her body began to sway sinuously, to glide and turn and twist about the room. He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. “I can survive on my own. The fair boy in the audience who had waved was yet another suitor.
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