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he also had left her, she leaned awhile over the terrace-parapet, with her eyes musingly dropped on the shelving mass of myrtle blossom, and as she stood there in her solitude, a step hurriedly crushed the fallen leaves of pomegranate flowers; before she saw him, a man had thrown himself before her, pressing his lips on the trailing folds of her laces, kneeling there as one kneels who sues for life. "Idalia!" She started and looked down; and drawing herself from his clasp with the gesture of her habitual haughty grace, turned from him without a word, bending her head with a silent salutation. "Idalia!—I have come only to look upon your face." The vibration of intense suffering in his voice made her involuntarily pause: but when she spoke it was with a calm indifference, a pointed meaning.