The Voice of the People

of twilight landscape was
visible, and a chill, transparent dusk filled the large room. Outside
she would see the box-walk, a stretch of lawn, broken by flower-beds,
and the avenue of cedars leading to the highway. From the porch floated
the smoke of the general's pipe.

Her brow was on her hand and she sat so motionless that the place seemed
deserted, save for an errant firefly that vainly palpitated in the
gloom. The glow that had flamed beneath Nicholas's kiss still lingered
in her face, and she was conscious of a faint, almost hysterical impulse
to weep. The fever in her veins had given place to a still tremor which
ran through her limbs. At first she felt rather than thought. She lapsed
into an emotional reverie as delicate as the fragrance of the October
roses on the table. There was a sensation of softness as when one lies
full length in sunshine or is caressed by firelight. She felt it pervade
her body even to the palms of her hands. Then her quick mind stirred,
and she recalled the pressure of his arms, the light in his eyes, the
quiver of his lips as they touched her hands. His strength had dominated
her and it still held her--the firm note in the voice that trembled,
the power in the hand that appealed, the almost savage vigour in the
arms that he folded on his breast. She had succumbed less to his
gentleness than to the knowledge that it was she alone who evoked that
gentleness out of a nature almost adamantine, wholly masculine. His
faults she knew to be the faults of one who had hewn his own road in
life--a rugged surface--a strain of rigidity beneath--at worst a
tendency to dogmatise--and knowing as she did her own control over them,
they attracted rather than repelled her.

And yet in this pulsating recognition of his manhood there was mingled
with an emotion half-maternal the memory of her own guardianship of his
stunted childhood. To a woman at once rashly spirited and profoundly
feminine the pathos of his boyish struggle appealed no less forcibly
than did the vi

John Addington Symonds (October 5, 1840 - April 19, 1893) was an English poet and literary critic. He was an early advocate of the validity of male love which included for him pederastic as well as egalitarian relationships, and which he would refer to as lamour de limpossible.

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