y,
as the deep reproof, the invincible protest of nature herself.

* * * * *

"A young man of Athens went to Corinth, to the house of one who had
promised him his daughter. Himself being still a heathen, he knew not
that the family which he thought to enter had just turned Christian.
It is very late when he arrives. They are all gone to rest, except the
mother, who serves up for him the hospitable repast and then leaves
him to sleep. Dead tired, he drops down. Scarce was he fallen asleep,
when a figure entered the room: 'tis a girl all clothed and veiled in
white; on her forehead a fillet of black and gold. She sees him. In
amazement she lifts her white hand: 'Am I, then, such a stranger in
the house already? Alas, poor recluse!... But I am ashamed, and
withdraw. Sleep on.'

"'Stay, fair maiden! Here are Bacchus, Ceres, and with thee comes
Love. Fear not, look not so pale!'

"'Ah! Away from me, young man! I have nothing more to do with
happiness. By a vow my mother made in her sickness my youth and my
life are bound for ever. The gods have fled, and human victims now are
our only sacrifices.'

"'Ha! can it be thou, thou, my darling betrothed, who wast given me
from my childhood? The oath of our fathers bound us for evermore under
the blessing of heaven. Maiden, be mine!'

"'No, my friend, not I. Thou shalt have my younger sister. If I moan
in my chilly dungeon, do thou in her arms think of me, of me wasting
away and thinking only of thee; of me whom the earth is about to cover
again.'

"'Nay, I swear by this flame, the torch of Hymen, thou shalt come home
with me to my father. Rest thee, my own beloved.'

"As a wedding-gift he offers her a cup of gold. She gives him her
chain, but instead of the cup desires a curl of his hair.

"It is the hour of spirits; her pale lip drinks up the dark blood-red
wine. He too drinks greedily after her. He calls on the god of Love.
She still resisted, though her poor heart was dying thereat. But he
grows desperate, and falls weeping on the couch. Anon she throws
herself by his side.

"'Oh! how ill thy sorrow makes me! Yet, if thou wast to touch me----
Oh, horror!--white as the snow, and cold as ice, such, ah me! is thy
bride.'

"'I will warm thee again: come to me, wert thou come from the very
grave.'

"Sighs and kisses many do they exchange.

"'Dost thou feel how warm I am?'

"Love twines and holds them fast. Tears mingle with their joy