"Gretchen, you must never take up the sword again."
"Only in my lord's defence." From the movement of her arm, which clung
to mine, I knew that she was laughing.
The moon had risen, the round and mellow moon of summer. The silver
mists of night wavered and sailed through the aisles of the forests,
and from the river came the cool fresh perfume of the river rush.
"And so you really love me?" I asked.
"I do."
"Why do you love me?"
"Because," said Gretchen.
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