"Did you ever see a likeness so wonderful?" he said at last.
"Never," she answered. "Or an unlikeness. That is the most wonderful
of all--the unlikeness. It is the same body inhabited by two souls
from different spheres."
His next words were spoken very slowly.
"I should have been sure you would see that," he commented.
"I lost my breath for a second when I saw them side by side in the
shop window--and the next moment I lost it again because I saw--what
I speak of--the utter world wide apartness. It is in their eyes.
She--," she touched the silver frame enclosing the young Princess,
"was a little saint--a little spirit. There never was a young
human thing so transparently pure."
The rigid modeling of his face expressed a thing which, himself
recognizing its presence, he chose to turn aside as he moved towards
the mantel and leaned on it. The same thing caused his voice to
sound hoarse and low as he spoke in answer, saying something she
had not expected him to say. Its unexpectedness in fact produced
in her an effect of shock.
"And she was the possession of a brute incarnate, mad with unbridled
lust and drink and abnormal furies. She was a child saint, and
shook with terror before him. He killed her."
"I believe he did," she said unsteadily after a breath space of
pause. "Many people believed so though great effort was made to
silence the stories.
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