Gently she tried to disengage herself from his arms.
"I must go now," she whispered.
"Not yet."
"For a moment and I'll come back."
"Not yet."
"Let go, dear lord, for I would go."
"Not till I've had another kiss."
Happiness and the springtime of the earth, joy and life and love dancing hand in hand with youth! O Time, why dost not stop at moments such as this?
The sighing of the reeds on the river bank came as the sound of a fairy lullaby, the scent of the spring reached the girl's nostrils like an intoxicant vapour, which clouded her brain. The room was quite dark, and she could scarcely see his face, yet she felt that his eyes perpetually asked a question, to which she could only respond by closing her own:
"Tu m'aimes?" he whispered, and the heavy lids falling over ardent eyes made mute response to him.