t and deep his love was, in spite
of the utter fatigue which weighed on her body and soul after so many
agitations, she felt with deep thankfulness the immense happiness of
being more precious than aught else on earth to a dear, good man. Love,
which had so long lain dormant in her as a bud, and then opened so
quickly only to close again under her alarms, unfolded once more and
blossomed for him again--not as it had done just now in passionate
ecstasy, but, as beseemed her calm, transparent nature, with moderated
joy, which, however, did not lack due warmth and winning tenderness.

Happiness beyond words possessed them both. She suffered him to seal his
vows with kisses, herself offering him her lips, as her heart swelled
with fervent thanksgiving for so much joy and such a full measure of
love.

She was indeed a precious jewel, and the passion of his stormy heart was
tempered by such genuine reverence that he gladly kept within the bounds
which her maidenly modesty prescribed. And how much they had to say to
each other in this first opening of their hearts, how many hopes for the
future found utterance in words! The minutes flew on and became hours,
till at last Melissa begged him to quit the marble seat on which they
had so long been resting, if indeed her feet could still carry her home.

Little as it pleased him, he did her bidding. But as they went on he
felt that she hung heavy on his arm and could only lift her little feet
with the greatest difficulty. The street was too dark for him to see how
pale she was; and yet he never took his eyes off her dear but scarcely
distinguishable features. Suddenly he heard a faint whisper as in a
dream, "I can go no farther," and at once led her back to the marble
seat.

He first carefully spread his mantle over the stone and then wrapped
her in it as tenderly as a mother might cover her shivering child, for
a cooler breeze gave warning of the coming dawn. He himself crept close
under the wall by her side, so as not to be seen, for a long train of
people, with servants carrying lanterns before them, now came out of
the house they had just left and down the street. Who these could be who
walked at so late an hour in such solemn silence neither of them knew.
They certainly sent up no joyful shout of "Iakchos!" no wild lament; no
cheerful laughter nor sounds of mourning were to be heard from the long
procession which passed along the street, two and two, at a slow pace.
As soon