'Perhaps it is star-mist, out of which new worlds are to be fashioned,' said Stella.
'Are you sorry for them, Liebe?'
'No; perhaps after long ages there will be people in them who love each other as we do—and that will make up for all.'
A proud smile stole over his face as he listened.
'Are you mocking or in earnest, Herzblättchen?'
'In deadly earnest. I foresee I shall be fearfully serious, Anselm.'
'No, no; you must not be a whit different—that would be a schism I could not bear. Stella, may I give you an old keepsake?'
'Do you love it very much?'
'Yes; and I have worn it for twelve years.'
'Then you may.'