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Smith, Alice Prescott

"Montlivet"


But we have shaken him off."
She thought this over for some time without speaking, and I was content
to lie silent at her feet. Bees droned in the flowers and white drifts
of afternoon clouds floated over us. I was happy in the moment, and
more than that, I was drugged with my dreams of the future. There were
days and days and days before us. This was but the threshold. And
then, with my ear to the ground, I heard the sound of an axe. The
sound of an axe in an untraveled wilderness!
I crowded closer to the ground. My blood beat in my temples, and I was
awake with every muscle. But I learned nothing. The sound of an axe
and then silence.
The woman looked at me. "Monsieur, is something wrong? Your face has
changed."
I stretched out my hand to her. "You must not grow fanciful. But
come. It is time to go home, madame."
I pushed her into the canoe in haste, but when we had once rounded the
turn of the bluff we floated home slowly. The light of late afternoon
is warm and yellow. It cradled the woman in lapping waves, and she sat
glowing and fragrant, and her eyes were mirrors of the light. I
dropped my paddle.
"Tell me more about yourself. Talk to me. Tell me of your childhood,"
I breathed.


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