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Smith, Alice Prescott

"Montlivet"

I sacrificed them to enforce
a belief. And now the belief is a phantom. It is very strange. Mary,
we have traveled by different roads, but we have reached the same goal.
My ambition for conquest is put away."
She drew a long breath, and I saw splendid understanding of me in the
look she gave. Yet she was unconvinced.
"Perhaps this feeling may pass," she argued. "It may be temporary.
Then you will regret your lost hold with the tribes."
I smiled at her. "I love you," I murmured. "I love you. I love you.
I am tired of talk of blood and war. Mary, you accepted me as I was,
accept me, if you can, as I am now. I cannot analyze myself. I cannot
promise what I will believe as time goes on. But this I know. I was
born with a sword in my hand, but now I cannot use it--for aggression.
I do not mean that I think it is wrong. I do not know what I believe.
Time will tell."
The strange light that made her seem all spirit flamed in the glance
that thanked me.
"Yet think well," she cautioned. "I--I am proud of you." Her voice
sank to a whisper. "Sometimes even my love seems swallowed in my pride
in you. I live on my pride in your power. Think of your unfinished
work. No, no, you must go on.


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