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Moore, George (George Augustus), 1852-1933

"Sister Teresa"

All
about him sounds were hushing, and lights breaking, and shadows
floating, and every breeze was scented. As he followed the
finely-sanded walks, he was startled by a new scent, and with dilating
nostrils tried to catch it, tried to remember if it were mastick or
some resinous fir; and, walking on like one in a trance, he admired
Beclere's taste in the planting of this garden.
"A strange man, so refined and intelligent--why does he live here?...
Why not?"
Returning suddenly to the ilex-trees, which he liked better than the
masticks, or the tamarisks, or any fir, he sat down to watch the
meadow, thinking there was nothing in the world more beautiful than
the moving of shadows of trees and clouds over young grass, and
nothing more beautiful than a young shepherd playing a flute: only
one thing more beautiful--a young girl carrying an amphora I She
passed out of the shadows, wearing a scarlet haik and on her arms and
neck a great deal of rough jewellery.
"She is going to the well," he said. The shepherd stopped playing and
advanced to meet her. Boy and girl stood talking for a little while.
He heard laughter and speech... saw her coming towards him. "She
will follow this path to the house, and I shall see her better.


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