"Oh I don't mean that too literally. But I like the idea of our going through the same experiences—both succeeding. It seems to me I can understand you better this morning than I ever did before. I read a little poem last night, and at the time I liked it so much. It is about success, or rather about not succeeding. But I'm afraid it wouldn't appeal to me very much just now,"—again she laughed, happily, and it was well for the happiness that she was not looking at him then.
"What was it?" he asked, as he saw she was going to turn around to him.
"Say it."
"Part of it was like this":
'Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition
So clear, of victory,
As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break agonized and clear.'
"Say that last verse again," he said, his voice thick and low;—Karl was so different when he was sick!
"As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break agonized and clear."
"It is beautiful, isn't it?" she said, as he did not speak.
"Beautiful? I don't know. I suppose it is. I was thinking that quite likely it is true."
"But I didn't suppose you would care about it, Karl. I supposed you would feel about it as you did about the statue."