The words were full of summer
and of that dramatic indolence of passion which saved the incident at
Magon Farcinelle's from being as vulgar as it was treacherous. The voice
was Christine's, on her wedding day.
"Oh, hark how the wind goes, the wind goes
(And dark goes the stream by the mill!)
Oh, see where the storm blows, the storm blows
(There's a rider comes over the hill!)
"He went with the sunshine one morning
(Oh, loud was the bugle and drum!)
My soldier, he gave me no warning
(Oh, would that my lover might come!)
"My kisses, my kisses are waiting
(Oh, the rider comes over the hill!)
In summer the birds should be mating
(Oh, the harvest goes down to the mill!)
"Oh, the rider, the rider he stayeth
(Oh, joy that my lover hath come!)
We will journey together he sayeth
(No more with the bugle and drum!)"
He caught sight of Christine for a moment as she passed through the
garden towards the stable. Her gown was of white stuff, with little
spots of red in it, and a narrow red ribbon was shot through the collar.
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