Page:Victor Hugo's Works (Guernsey Edition) v14.djvu/39

Rh More still and snowy round her than the folds

Of her white veil. And when she rose, I rose

And followed her, like one drawn by a charm,

To a mean house, where entering, she was lost.

She was alone?

Only a shrewish servant

That saw her to the church, and saw her home.

A most weak wolf-dog for so choice a lamb!

Methought, my lord, she needed no more guard

Than the innocence that sat, dove-like, in her eyes,

That shaped the folding of her delicate hands,

And timed the movement of her gentle feet.

You spoke to her?

I dared not; some strange shame

Put weight upon my tongue. I only watched her,

And sometimes heard her sing. That was enough.

Poets are easy satisfied. Well, you watched?

And then I found that I was not alone

Upon my nightly post: there were two more;

One stayed outside, like me, and one went in.