The greeting of the master of the house being over, the Maid threw
off for a moment the grave dignity of her bearing throughout this
trying day, and became a simple girl again. With a quick grace of
movement she crossed the space which divided her from the little
child, and kneeling suddenly down, took the wondering little one in
her arms, and held her in a close embrace.
"Ma petite, ma mie, ma tres chere," those nearest heard her murmur.
"Love me, darling, love me! I have a little sister at home who
loves me, but I had to go away and leave her. Perhaps I may never
see her again. Try to love me instead, and comfort my heart, for
sometimes I am very, very weary, and hungry for the love that I
have lost!"
Now, one might have thought that so young a child--for she was not
more than eight years old, and small for her years--would have been
affrighted at the sudden approach of the shining warrior, about
whom so many stories had been told, and who looked more like the
Archangel Michael, as many thought, than a creature of human flesh
and blood.
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