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The Crushed Flower and Other Stories by Leonid Nikolayevich Andreyev
page 44 of 360 (12%)
fell in love with myself. I am so fond of the beautiful and the
wise! And suddenly I saw--on my forehead, among my other inborn
adornments, a new, strange sign--Was it not this sign that has
brought the heaviness, the petrified look, and the sweet taste in my
mouth? Here a cross is darkly outlined on my forehead--right here--
look. Come closer to me. Is this not strange? But I did not
understand it at that time, and I liked it. Let there be no more
adornment. And on the same day, on that same terrible day, when the
cross appeared, my first kiss became also my last--my kiss became
fatal. One in many! One in many!

Oh!

You love precious stones, but think, my beloved, how far more
precious is a little drop of my poison. It is such a little drop.--
Have you ever seen it? Never, never. But you shall find it out.
Consider, my beloved, how much suffering, painful humiliation,
powerless rage devoured me: I had to experience in order to bring
forth this little drop. I am a queen! I am a queen! In one drop,
brought forth by myself, I carry death unto the living, and my
kingdom is limitless, even as grief is limitless, even as death is
limitless. I am queen! My look is inexorable. My dance is
terrible! I am beautiful! One in many! One in many!

Oh!

Do not fall. My story is not yet ended. Come closer to me.

And then I crawled into the stupid forest, into my green dominion.

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