Beauty indeed should be theirs--the Beauty of Nature and Love; no more
the vampire's beauty of Art.
It was strange to each how their souls lightened as the valleys of the
world folded away behind them, and the simple slopes mounted in their
path. In that pure unladen air which so exhilarated their very bodies,
there seemed some mysterious property of exhilaration for the soul also.
One might have dreamed that just to breathe on those heights all one's
days would be to grow holy by the more cleansing power of the air. With
such bright currents ever running through the brain, surely one's
thoughts would circle there white as stones at the bottom of a spring.
"O Antony," said Beatrice, "why were we so long in finding the hills?"
"We found them once before, Beatrice--do you remember?"
"Yes! You have not forgotten?" said Beatrice, with the ray of a lost
happiness in her eyes--lost, and yet could it be dawning again? There
was a morning star in Antony's face.
"And then," said Antony, "we went into the valley--the Valley of Beauty
and Death."
Beatrice pressed his hand and looked all her love at him for comfort.
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