ld not willingly distress more than
there is need for. It shall not bind us more than we ourselves wish.
Freedom shall be the knitting and the loosening of our bond!"

"Beautiful woman!" answered he, "raised above the hypocrisy of
weakness--above the darkness of prejudice--I admire you and obey you!
Only to such a woman can my will submit! My beautiful scholar is become
my teacher! Well, then, let the hand of the priest unite us; my hand
shall conduct you up to that brilliant throne which your beauty and your
talents deserve! I will only elevate you in order, as now, to fall
before your feet the most devoted of your servants!"

He dropped upon one knee before her; and she, bending herself towards
him, let her lips touch his forehead. He threw his arms round her, and
held her for one moment bent towards him. A supercilious, scornful
expression, unobserved by her, played upon his lips.

"Release me, Hermann! some one comes," said she; he did so, and as she
raised her proud neck against his will, a dark flash of indignation
burned in her eyes.

They withdrew, and another couple stepped out into the balcony.

He. Wait, let me wrap my cloak better round you; the wind is cool.

She. Ah, how beautiful to feel how it wraps us both! Do you see how we
are here standing between heaven and earth, separated from all the
world?

He. I do not see it--I see my lovely world in my arms! I have you,
Laura! Laura, tell me, are you happy?

She. Ah, no!

He. How?

She. Ah, I am not happy because I am too happy! I fancy I never can have
deserved this happiness. I cannot conceive how it came to my share. Ah,
Arvid! to live thus with you, with my mother, my sister, all that I most
love--and then to be yours ever, ever!

He. Say eternally, my Laura! Our union belongs as much to heaven as to
earth, here as there; to all eternity I am yours, and you are mine!

She. Hush, my Arvid! I hear my mother's voice--she calls me. Let us go
to her.

They returned into the room, and presently another couple stepped on the
balcony.

He. Cousin Louise, do you like evening air? Cousin Louise, I fancy, is
rather romantic. Cousin, do you like the stars? I am a great friend of
the stars too; I think on what the poet sings:

----silently as Egypt's priests
They move.

Look, Cousin Louise, towards the corner, in the west there lies
Oestanvik. If it would give you any pleasure to make a little tour
there, I would beg that I might drive yo