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[393]
     With its tin-roofed chapel stood
Half hid in the dwarf spruce wood;

Green-turfed, flower-sown, the last outpost
     Of summer upon the dreary coast,
With its gardens small and spare,
     Sad in the frosty air.

Hard by where the skipper's schooner lay,
     A fisherman's cottage looked away
Over isle and bay, and behind
     On mountains dim-defined.

And there twin sisters, fair and young,
     Laughed with their stranger guest, and sung
In their native tongue the lays
     Of the old Provencal days.

Alike were they, save the faint outline
     Of a scar on Suzette's forehead fine;
And both, it so befell,
     Loved the heretic stranger well.

Both were pleasant to look upon,
     But the heart of the skipper clave to one;
Though less by his eye than heart
     He knew the twain apart.

Despite of alien race and creed,
     Well did his wooing of Marguerite speed;
And the mother's wrath was vain
     As the sister's jealous pain.

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Marguerite (1)
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