Then, without reason, her
eyes filled with tears; but she dashed them away, and burst suddenly
into singing. And she was still singing when, from the long grass by
the river's edge, a young man sprang up, and, with a very low bow,
drew aside to let her pass. He had a book in his hand, for he was a
student at the University, and came there to pursue his learning in
peace. His plain brown clothes spoke of no wealth or station, though
certainly they set off a stalwart straight shape, and seemed to match
well with his bright brown hair and hazel eyes. Very low this young
man bowed, and Osra bent her head. The pace of her walk slackened,
grew quicker, slackened again; she was past him, and with a great sigh
he lay down again. She turned, he sprang up; she spoke coldly, yet
kindly.
"Sir," said she, "I cannot but notice that you lie every day here by
the river, with your book, and that you sigh. Tell me your trouble,
and if I can I will relieve it."
"I am reading, madam," he answered, "of Helen of Troy, and I am
sighing because she is dead."
"It is an old grief by now," said Osra, smiling.
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