Amélie Rives, The Garden of the King (1907)
“ And she knew not how she left the hall, nor when,—nor when or how Mervais got him from her presence, for the dread of those words was upon her, and the great rubis stone, carved like a rose, that lay hidden in her breast, bit deep through bone and flesh into the heart within her heart, like as it had been the rose of pure desire, in the King's garden in the lay. ”
