Our stern and black reality will come upon us speedily enough.
But, first, a brief time more of this strange happiness." "I dare not linger upon it," answered Donatello, with an expression that reminded the sculptor of the gloomiest days of his remorse at Monte Beni.

"I dare to be so happy as you have seen me, only because I have felt the time to be so brief." "One day, then!" pleaded Miriam.

"One more day in the wild freedom of this sweet-scented air." "Well, one more day," said Donatello, smiling; and his smile touched Kenyon with a pathos beyond words, there being gayety and sadness both melted into it; "but here is Hilda's friend, and our own.

Comfort him, at least, and set his heart at rest, since you have it partly in your power." "Ah, surely he might endure his pangs a little longer!" cried Miriam, turning to Kenyon with a tricksy, fitful kind of mirth, that served to hide some solemn necessity, too sad and serious to be looked at in its naked aspect.

"You love us both, I think, and will be content to suffer for our sakes, one other day.