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But Hilda was under no delusion. She shivered and moved nearer to Otto. She felt that he was her hope in this crisis which the mad love of her hero-lover had forced. Brauner was the more angry because he had been thus taken by surprise. "What nonsense is this?" he growled, shaking his head violently. "My daughter is engaged to a plain man like ourselves."
Edith gazed a moment in devout admiration on the mien of her hero-lover, then she drew closer and closer to his breast, consoled and believing. With all her persuasion of her own powers in penetrating the future, we have seen that Hilda had never consulted her oracles on the fate of Harold, without a dark and awful sense of the ambiguity of their responses.
He held to his earlier hero, though he had seen him, and though he could fancy he saw round him. Another, too, had been a hero-lover. How did that lady of night's eyes come to fall into her subjection? He put no question as to the name she bore; it hung in a black suspense vividly at its blackest illuminated her possessor.
He held to his earlier hero, though he had seen him, and though he could fancy he saw round him. Another, too, had been a hero-lover. How did that lady of night's eyes come to fall into her subjection? He put no question as to the name she bore; it hung in a black suspense vividly at its blackest illuminated her possessor.
On the train, unconscious of its uproar, he was bespelled by his new love. During a few moments of their lives, ordinary real people, people real as a tooth-brush, do actually transcend the coarsely physical aspects of sex and feeding, and do approximate to the unwavering glow of romantic heroes. Carl was no more a romantic hero-lover than, as a celebrated aviator, he had been a hero-adventurer.
It was a cruel fate that snatched Gabrielle d'Estrées from the arms of Henri IV., King of France and Navarre, at the moment when her long devotion to her hero-lover was on the eve of being crowned by the bridal veil; and for many a week there was no more stricken man in Europe than the disconsolate King as he wailed in his black-draped chamber, "The root of my love is dead, and will never blossom again."
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