Like a drunken man he staggered to where
Ayesha stood, then overcome, sank before her on his knees.
"Arise," she said, "it is I who should kneel to thee," and she stretched
out her hand to raise him, whispering in his ear the while.
Still he would not, or could not rise, so very slowly she bent over him
and touched him with her lips upon the brow. Next she beckoned to me. I
came and would have knelt also, but she suffered it not.
"Nay," she said, in her rich, remembered voice, "thou art no suitor; it
shall not be. Of lovers and worshippers henceforth as before, I can find
a plenty if I will, or even if I will it not. But where shall I find
another friend like to thee, O Holly, whom thus I greet?" and leaning
towards me, with her lips she touched me also on the brow--just touched
me, and no more.
Fragrant was Ayesha's breath as roses, the odour of roses clung to her
lovely hair; her sweet body gleamed like some white sea-pearl; a faint
but palpable radiance crowned her head; no sculptor ever fashioned such
a marvel as the arm with which she held her veil about her; no stars in
heaven ever shone more purely bright than did her calm, entranced eyes.
Yet it is true, even with her lips upon me, all I felt for her was a
love divine into which no human passion entered. Once, I acknowledge to
my shame, it was otherwise, but I am an old man now and have done with
such frailties.
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