'Here, take the pretty part. It's not so pretty
As it was once!
[Thinking aloud.]
I picked the jewels out
To buy your mother the last dress I gave her.
There's just one left, I see, for you, my Lily.
Why did I kill Nembroni? Poor saviour I,
Saving thee only for a greater ill!
If thou wert dead, the child would comfort me;—
Is she not part of thee, and all my own?
But now——
Lily
(throwing down the dagger-hilt and running up to him).
Father, what is a poetry?
Julian.
A beautiful thing,—of the most beautiful
That God has made.
Lily.
As beautiful as mother?
Julian.
No, my dear child; but very beautiful.
Lily.
Do let me see a poetry.
Julian
(opening a book).
There, love!
Lily
(disappointedly).
I don't think that's so very pretty, father.
One side is very well—smooth; but the other
[Rubbing her finger up and down the ends of the lines.]
Is rough, rough; just like my hair in the morning,
[Smoothing her hair down with both hands.]