Forest Love

With the sun rose Isoult, transfigured and glorified, Love's rosy
priest. She slipped from her man's arms, hung over him wonderfully,
lightly kissed his forehead without disturbing his deep sleep. Then
she went to bathe herself in the pool, and to bind up her hair. The
woodland was jewelled with dew, it went in misty green and yellow, all
vocal of the joy she had. She was loved! she was loved!

Fresh and full of light she came dancing back, without a trace of the
haggard beauty upon her which had stolen about the ways of Holy Thorn.
Her mouth had the divine childishness, the rippling curves of the
naked god's bow; her eyes were glossy-soft and rayed a light from
within. Warm arms stole round Prosper, a warm cheek was by his, warm
lips kissed him awake. The duet, as of two low-answering doves,
began-"Is this Isoult la Desirous who cometh?"

"You called me Desirée."

"How long sought, how long prayed for!"

"Found now, and close at last."

"Closer yet, closer yet."

"Oh heart, oh desire! Prosper!"

"Yes."

"Tell me one thing."

"Ask."

"When began you to think of me?"

"Will you put me to shame, Isoult?"

"Never, never! There is no shame in you. Look what I am."

"The purest, the loveliest, the bride of all delight!"

"You are a great lord; and I----"

"The great lord's lady--out of his reach."

"Prosper! No, no. If I am out of reach, reach not for me. Tell me
instead what I ask you."