mble with my scissors.

We took the Jordan oxen, a meek pair that have broken sod for the
colony, and twined them with garlands of wild roses. Around and around
their horns, and around and around their bodies the long ropes were
wound, their master standing by with his goad. That we wound also, and
covered his hat with roses. The huge oxen swayed aside, looking ashamed
of themselves. And when their tails were ornamented with a bunch at the
tip, they switched these pathetically. Still even an ox loves festivity,
whether he owns to it or not. We made a procession, child behind child,
each bearing on his head all the roses he could carry, the two oxen
walking tandem, led by their master in front. Everybody came out and
laughed. It was a beautiful sight, and cheered us, though we gave it no
name except the Procession of Roses.

Often when I open my eyes at dawn I hear music far off that makes my
heart swell. It is the waking dream of a king marching with drums and
bugles. While I am dressing I hum, "Oh, Richard, O my king!"

Louis! Louis! Louis!

I cannot--I cannot keep it down! How can I hold still that righteousness
may be done through me, when I love--love--love--when I clench my fists
and walk on my knees--

I am a wicked woman! What is all this sweet pretense of duty! It covers
the hypocrite that loves--that starves--that cries, My king!--my king!

Strike me!--drive me within bounds! This long repression--years, years
of waiting--for what?--for more waiting!--it is driving me mad!

You have the key.

I have nothing!

IX

My God! What had she seen in me to love? I sat up and held the book
against my bosom. Its cry out of her past filled the world from horizon
to horizon. The ox that she had wreathed in roses would have heard it
through her silence. But the brutal, slow Bourbon had gone his way,
turning his stupid head from side to side, leaving her to perish.

Punctuated by years, bursting from eternities of suppression, it brought
an accumulated force that swept the soul out of my body.

All that had not been written in the book was as easily read as what was
set down. I saw the monotony of her life, and her gilding of its
rudeness, the pastimes she thought out for children; I saw her nursing
the helplessness which leaned upon her, and turning aside the contempt
of pioneer women who passionately admired strong men. I saw her eyes
waiting on the distant laggard who stupidly pursued his own affairs