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Updated: June 20, 2025
They had not seen. But in a little they heard his voice as he rode down into the cañon. It was the old song, lilted tenderly, the voice seeming young and gay and untroubled: "Dios. It is sweet to be young . . . and to love." At last they passed out of the thick shadows which lay in the forest lands and into the soft dawn light of the valley, Ygerne and David, riding side by side.
He sang it in the Spanish, a tongue which no other man here understood. Yet they must all guess the meaning of the words. They were love words, tenderly lilted. And they were being sung to Ernestine Dumont. There was a little smile upon young Ramon's lips, a hint of gay laughter in his voice and in his soft eyes a deal of love making.
A woman over by the gate lifted a sweet contralto voice in an old-time love-song, and had hardly lilted the opening line before others joined her, making the night resound to the tender melody.
"Some other morning" echoed Smith, and he too rose from his seat. "Me, too. Ta ta! Tra la la!" lilted the light comedy man, as he pushed his empty plate to one side, and one by one the remainder of the Pleiades rose in solemn silence before Handy had time to realize that his war stories were away below par among the members of his company.
The horses lilted it out in their gallop: the harness jingled, the postillions tittuped to it. And the presto with which it wound up as we came to a post-house and a fresh relay of horses had to be heard to be believed.
They dinna sing them in Ameriky. An' I lilted yin till him we was lookin' far oot at the Gowden Gate, an' it lookit like the crystal water ma een'll sune see." Archie stopped, though apparently but little exhausted. His eyes seemed flooded with tender memories of that momentous hour on the far distant Pacific Coast. "What psalm did you sing him?" I ventured, presently.
"We're playfellows to-day, and I can't fall in love till to-morrow!" The last words she lilted mockingly, flashing a look backward at Dennis Kavanagh. The old man did not shift his attitude, fingers curved to clutch, arms extended, until he heard the tattoo of their horses' hoofs on the long bridge.
The curtain was fully open now, and Bud's voice as Peter Quince, a trifle high and cracked with excitement, broke the stillness, while the awed audience gazed upon this new, strange world presented to them. "Is all our company here?" lilted out Bud, excitedly, and Nick Bottom replied with Gardley's voice: "You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip."
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