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Excerpt from My Diaries, Vol. 1: Being a Personal Narrative of Events, 1888-1914
It was in 1881 that my first meeting with him and Lady Anne took place, at Cairo, when they were living in the garden they had bought on the desert edge Of Heliopolis; and at that meeting my husband had told us how some years before at a bull fight at Madrid he had been struck by the extraordinary good looks Of the young matador awaiting the rush Of the bull in the arena and asking who he was heard he was an attaché from the English Embassy, Wilfrid Blunt. That fine poem Of his on the dying bull fighter Sancho Sanchez shows perhaps the hidden root Of that adventure: Meaning was there in our courage and the calm Of our demeanour, For there stood a foe before us which had need Of all our skill, And our lives were as the programme, and the world was our arena, And the wicked beast was death and the horns of death were Hell.
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