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Standing for a moment in the middle of the kitchen, holding the book in his hand, he looked from the pale silent mother by the ironing board to the son now standing and staring at him, and, throwing the book upon the table with a bang, fled the house. "You don't understand," he had cried, "you don't understand the heart of a soldier." In a way the man was right.
It was a glittering day in early August; a light shower the night before had washed the valley clean of dust, and now the hot harvest sun poured down his ripening rays over the pulsating earth. To the south the Brandon Hills shimmered in a pale gray mirage.
For nine days and nine nights Hermod rode on. His way was through rugged glens, one deeper and darker than the other. He came to the river that is called Giöll and to the bridge across it that is all glittering with gold. The pale maid who guards the bridge spoke to him. "The hue of life is still on thee," said Modgudur, the pale maid. "Why dost thou journey down to Hela's deathly realm?"
"It is impossible!" cried Rudolph, astonished. "I assure you it was she, neighbor." "You must be mistaken." "No, no; although she was dressed as a peasant girl, I knew her at once. She is still very handsome, although pale; and she has the same soft, melancholy manner as formerly." "Come to Paris without my knowledge! I cannot believe it. What was she doing at Saint Lazare?"
Then there is a young gentleman, Carlo Nobis, who seems very haughty; and he is between two boys who are sympathetic to me, the son of a blacksmith-ironmonger, clad in a jacket which reaches to his knees, who is pale, as though from illness, who always has a frightened air, and who never laughs; and one with red hair, who has a useless arm, and wears it suspended from his neck; his father has gone away to America, and his mother goes about peddling pot-herbs.
When he came back, he was very pale indeed, and greatly agitated, and even looked as if he had been shedding tears. He seemed to have lost the faculty of speech, until he had been to the cupboard and taken a dram of rum from the case-bottle, when he fetched a deep breath, and sat down in a chair with his hand before his face.
She bent over the bed; she put her arms tenderly around the little shrunken form of the poor child that had long been sick, and that was now confronting death. She covered the pale face of her son with kisses, and watered it with her tears. And these kisses, these tears of his mother, awakened the child out of his stupor, and called him back to life.
A servant said something to Monica, who, asking permission of her companions by a gesture, left the table and came across the hall. To my surprise, she was dressed in deepest black with linen cuffs. Her face was pale and set, and there was a look of fear and suffering in her eyes that wrung my very heart. I had shuffled into the last place of the row in which the head keeper had ranged us.
When she understood my intention, the old woman, in whose hands I had noticed a faint trembling, became suddenly very pale. She fixed her firm, grey eyes upon me: "Monsieur le Comte will not do that!" "Pardon me, my good Victoire, that I shall do. I appreciate your good qualities of fidelity and devotion.
She was very pale and stern; but her face lit up as the boy crossed to her, and took her cold, damp hands in his. "There," she said tenderly, "you see how calm I am." "Yes; but if I could only go with you, mother!" he said. "Yes; if you could only go with me, my boy! But it is impossible. No, not impossible, for you will be with me in spirit all the time. I take your love to your father and ah!"
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