He speaks, and the thorny wilderness of the lonely heart is become a paradise of flowers.

He is silent, and the garden is but a blackened desert over which a destroying flame has passed in the arms of the east wind.

Love stands at the gateway of each human soul, holding in his hands a rose and a drawn sword--the sword is for the many, the rose for the one." He sighed and was silent.

Unorna looked at him curiously.
"Have you ever loved, that you should talk like that ?" she asked.

He turned upon her almost fiercely.
"Loved?
Yes, as you can never love; as you, in your woman's heart, can never dream of loving--with every thought, with every fibre, with every pulse, with every breath; with a love that is burning the old oak through and through, root and branch, core and knot, to feathery ashes that you may scatter with a sigh--the only sigh you will ever breathe for me, Unorna.