Anne’s thought became confused. Till then she had thought that they met, united in music.... And now Thomas told her that he did not understand the only language which her soul, her blood could speak.... It did not matter, nothing mattered so long as he was here, if only he could be at her side.
She drew her head back a little and with eyes half shut looked longingly at Illey’s shoulders as though she would, by the intensity of her regard, build a nest there for her little head.
Thomas began to walk at a noticeably slow pace. Then Anne too noticed the snow-covered lamp in front of the Ulwings’ house.
“I have sought this moment for a long time,” said Illey quickly. “I was seeking it on the island when I waited for you so long—till the stars appeared and the ferryman lit a fire for the night. Next day I was there too. I have pulled the bell at your door many times. I saw your face through the window, I heard you play the piano, yet I was told you were not in. Florian avoided my eyes when he said that. I understood. It was not desired that I should come.”
“And I was expecting you.” There was so much suffering in Anne’s veiled voice that all became clear to Illey.
At this moment they came in sight of the house. They stepped so slowly that they remained practically on the same spot, yet the distance grew smaller. The porch moved out of the wall and came to meet them rapidly, dark through the glittering whiteness. The two pillar-men came with it too. They leaned more and more from under the cornice and looked down on them.
The porch stopped with a jerk. They had reached the end of the street. Anne’s heart stood still with anguish. One more moment and they would be together no more.
Florian dropped the latch key. He fumbled slowly, very slowly with his hand in the snow and never looked up once while doing so.
Thomas Illey bent to Anne:
“We cannot live any more without each other,” and he kissed her hand.