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Werner, E., 1838-1918

"The Northern Light"

But in this moment hate gained the mastery.
"My poor pages!" he said with unconcealed bitterness. "They, too,
suffered in the flame; they were, perhaps, worthy a better fate."
"Then you should not have sent them to me. I will not and dare not
accept such poems."
"You dare not, my dear Baroness? It is the homage of a poet which he
lays at a woman's feet, and poets have had that right for all time. It
is incumbent on you to accept such an offering."
The words were spoken in such a hot, passionate whisper that Adelheid
trembled.
"Perhaps you pay homage to the women of your country in such words.
German woman do not understand them."
"But you understand them," said Hartmut fiercely, "and you understand
the fire and passion of my 'Arivana,' which rises above all laws and
restrictions of this narrow, human life. I saw that on the evening when
you turned your back on me, while the rest of the world applauded and
came forward with their congratulations. Do not deceive yourself, Ada.
When the god-like spark enters two souls, it bursts into flame whether
they be of the south or the cold north, and that spark has ignited and
burns in us both. All strength and will dies in its fiery breath, it
extinguishes all else, nothing remains but that holy, sacred fire which
illumines and blesses, even while it consumes.


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