"Tell me about her," and Mae nodded her head toward the strange lady.
"There is little to tell," said Bero, in a quiet tone. "Her brother is
well known in Rome as an artist. He lives there with his sister and an
old duenna. She wears this mysterious veil constantly, and some fanciful
people see just as mysterious a cloud resting about her life. I only
know she is strange and beautiful, and that her name is Lillia."
Yet Bero had seen this woman almost daily for six months. But he only
knew she was strange and beautiful, and that her name was Lillia.
Mae had never spoken to the veiled stranger, yet if Bero had turned upon
her and asked, "Who is she?" she would have replied: "I do not know her
name or where she lives, but I know she struggles, and despairs, and
smiles over all. And I know her suffering comes from sorrow--not from
sin." But Mae did not say all this. She only looked at the veiled lady.
Her vestal lamp had dropped for the moment, and she seemed to be gazing
far away.
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