‘Even the nuns they say I am like a devil. It seemed incredible that she and her aunt were, indeed, creatures of the same blood, only by a birth or so different beings, and part of that same broad interlacing stream of human life that has invented the fauns and nymphs, Astarte, Aphrodite, Freya, and all the twining beauty of the gods. Will you?” She thought, and it seemed to him she had never looked so self-disciplined and deliberate and beautiful. Her head rose. "Oh, God! would you take him from me?— would you murder him?" "His father's name?—and he is free," rejoined Rowland, holding her arms. ‘Tell me the truth, Melusine.
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