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Updated: May 22, 2025
It was, indeed, during this summer, though Kashkine has erroneously attributed them to a later year, that he produced the celebrated "Songs of the Steppes," those "Chansons sans Paroles," which the world hums still, even after a vogue which would, in six months, have killed anything less original, less intangibly charming and uncommon.
He sat down in an embrasure between the battlements, and drifted into the numb state between waking and sleeping in which visions are born. For a space nothing happened, then quite suddenly, rising as it were out of a void, a presence entered his consciousness, reached and touched his spirit. Intangibly, but quite unmistakably, he was aware of the summons, of a voice that spoke within his soul.
The cabin, in contrast with the bright light of sun shining on new-fallen snow, was dark and so utterly cheerless and chill that he shrugged shoulders impatiently at its atmosphere, which was as intangibly offensive as had been the conduct of the Pilgrim.
Utterly his own as he knew her to be, yet dimly, intangibly, he began to wonder what her outlook on life could be, how she regarded the tie that bound them. It was impossible to reason seriously with her. She floated out of his reach at the first touch. So that curious honeymoon of theirs continued, love and passion crudely mingled, union without knowledge, flaming worship and blind possession.
When he came back to her his voice was lower, his manner intangibly furtive. "You didn't tell him anything, did you?" he asked, as if there had been no pause in their talk. "No I made him believe I wasn't there. Or I tried to. And dad! As I was going to cross that creek just before you come to Rock City, two men came along on horseback, and I hid before they saw me.
Come back yere; I'v got a letter fer you I overlooked yisteday." Out of the tail of his eye the man saw that the woman was young, dressed quietly yet in exquisite taste, and that she was extremely good to look at. She was evidently a stranger, yet there was something intangibly familiar about her features.
When he came back to her his voice was lower, his manner intangibly furtive. "You didn't tell him anything, did you?" he asked, as if there had been no pause in their talk. "No I made him believe I wasn't there. Or I tried to. And dad! As I was going to cross that creek just before you come to Rock City, two men came along on horseback, and I hid before they saw me.
And yet there had been something intangibly personal from the very first, about every one of their broken momentary conversations almost about every meeting of their eyes. It had disturbed him the first time he had ever seen her smile. He remembered the occasion well enough.
He was conscious only that she was there before him and that he loved her; that her downcast looks seemed to encourage him, so that it was impossible to rest until he knew what was really in her mind. The unspoken message which he had somehow intangibly received from her made him forget everything else. He loved her; he loved her, and a wild hope was beating in his heart and seething in his brain.
Quietly he drew the head-covering over the baby's face. "My dear," he said, "there is no death." The words were few, spoken almost in an undertone; but they sent a curious, tingling thrill through Muriel a thrill that seemed to reach her heart. For the first time, unaccountably, wholly intangibly, she was aware of a strong resemblance between this man whom she honoured and the man she feared.
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