the marble
terrace."

She turned to him again and there were now no tears in her eyes; grief
should not conquer her and she spoke brightly, entering into the spirit
of his speech.

"A prodigal preface. But what is the sum of all your wisdom?"

The wild fancy which had come into Robert's brain when he spoke of
love-wisdom grew with the moment into a wild resolve. The lips of the
fool should interpret the heart of the King. He motioned to her to sit
on the lowest of the steps that led to the altar place, and when she had
done so he seated himself thereon. The sunlight fell between them and
lay, a pool of many colors at their feet. Neither of them knew that the
little side door, which led from the quiet street, opened a little,
allowing a woman to slip into the church and vanish behind the shadow of
a pillar.

Robert spoke in a slow voice. "Love is the soul of the world. I am no
better than a mouthing fool, but I believe the perfect lover to be next
of kin to the angels."

Perpetua gave a little sigh. "What is the perfect lover?" she asked,
softly. She felt as if she were back in her mountain hut, sitting by
her father's side, and asking him questions of the youth of the world.
Robert's voice came back to her like a solemn chant.

"Such a one as the many dull would meanly scorn and the few wise nobly
envy. For him love comes like a mighty wind of fire and burns his heart
clean. He may have been stained and spotted in the slough of life, but
when the woman comes she saves him."

There was a nobleness in his voice which she had not noted before; it
charmed and lulled her.

"Can human love do so much?" she asked, more of herself than of him.

Robert's voice rose in triumphant assertion. "The heart's woman is the
soul's star. She lifts her lover from the common whirl of things. He is
thrilled with the elemental wonder, fulfilled with the immortal truth.
He shelters imperishable passion in the perishable flesh. To a gray
world such love brings glory, and he that is so graced walks in the
wilderness as in a rose garden--gentle in reverence, loyal in honor,
simple in faith. His eyes have glimpses of the flight of angels; his
ears hear snatches of the music of the spheres, and even the very dust
he treads upon becomes the golden dust of stars. This is the love that
is mightier than death, this is the mystery of mysteries, the rose of
changeless youth."

Perpetua put her hand to her heart.

"Is there such love?" she