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Updated: September 23, 2025
'And what if Pelagia herself were your sister? Philammon was bursting forth in some passionate answer, when the old man stopped him and went on slowly, looking him through and through
There is a plot to carry you off to-night, and give you up to your brother the monk; you are betrayed; be brave! Pelagia read it with blanching cheek and staring eyes; and took, at least, the last part of Miriam's advice.
The old woman set her lips firmly, and drew her dagger. Pelagia wrapped her face in her cloak, and stood trembling, bowed down, as if expecting another blow. The door opened, and in walked, neither monks nor guard, but Wulf and Smid. 'Heyday, young monk! cried the latter worthy, with a loud laugh 'Veils here, too, eh? At your old trade, my worthy portress of hell-gate?
The speculation did not stay with him long; Semitic, Latin, or Teuton race was very much the same to him, and intellectual subtleties had not much attraction at any time for the most brilliant soldier in the French cavalry; he preferred the ring of the trumpets, the glitter of the sun's play along the line of steel as his regiment formed in line on the eve of a life-and-death struggle, the wild, breathless sweep of a midnight gallop over the brown, swelling plateau under the light of the stars, or, in some brief interval of indolence and razzia-won wealth, the gleam of fair eyes and the flush of sparkling sherbet when some passionate, darkling glance beamed on him from some Arab mistress whose scarlet lips murmured to him through the drowsy hush of an Algerine night the sense, if not the song of Pelagia,
Pelagia! you understand this fellow's talk. Ask him how far it is to Asgard. 'You must ask me more civilly, my rough hero, replied a soft voice from underneath the awning. 'Beauty must be sued, and not commanded.
You are a right noble maiden, and may Freya send you a husband worthy of you, and make you the mother of kings! And Wulf retired with his party. Open homage to her rival, before her very face! Pelagia felt quite inclined to hate old Wulf. But at least he was the only traitor.
On one side of the fountain, under the shade of a broad-leaved palmetto, lay the Amal's mighty limbs, stretched out on cushions, his yellow hair crowned with vine-leaves, his hand grasping a golden cup, which had been won from Indian Rajahs by Parthian Chosroos, from Chosroos by Roman generals, from Roman generals by the heroes of sheepskin and horsehide; while Pelagia, by the side of the sleepy Hercules-Dionysos, lay leaning over the brink of the fountain, lazily dipping her fingers into the water, and basking, like the gnats which hovered over its surface, in the mere pleasure of existence.
Pelagia and Philammon, like the rest, went to their own place; to the only place where such in such days could find rest; to the desert and the hermit's cell, and then forward into that fairy land of legend and miracle, wherein all saintly lives were destined to be enveloped for many a century thenceforth. And now, readers, farewell.
'And now, for Pelagia. We can but try. 'Your Excellency might offend the Goth. 'Curse the Goth! He shall have his choice of all the beauties in Alexandria, and be count of Pentapolis if he likes. But a spectacle I must have; and no one but Pelagia can dance Venus Anadyomene. Philammon's blood rushed to his heart, and then back again to his brow, as he reeled with horror and shame.
'And how can I help weeping, when I see anything as beautiful as you are destined to the flames of hell for ever? 'The flames of hell? said Pelagia, with a shudder. 'What for? 'Do you not know? asked the old man, with a look of sad surprise. 'Have you forgotten what you are? 'I? I never hurt a fly! 'Why do you look so terrified, my darling?
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