The veil fell from her beautiful forehead. She gazed into his eyes one moment with a look of terrified inquiry, and saw nothing there but love.... And clinging heart to heart, brother and sister mingled holy kisses, and strained nearer and nearer still, as if to satisfy their last lingering doubts of each other’s kin.
Many a minute passed in silent joy.... Philammon dare not speak; he dare not ask her what brought her thither—dare not wake her to recollect the frightful present by questions of the past, of his long forgotten parents, their home, her history.... And, after all, was it not enough for him that he held her at last?—her, there by her own will—the lost lamb returned to him?—and their tears mingled as their cheeks were pressed together.
At last she spoke.
‘I ought to have known you,—I believe I did know you from the first day! When they mentioned your likeness to me, my heart leapt up within me; and a voice whispered.... but I would not hear it! I was ashamed—ashamed to acknowledge my brother, for whom I had sought and longed for years.... ashamed to think that I had a brother.... Ah, God! and ought I not to be ashamed?’
And she broke from him again, and threw herself on the floor.
‘Trample upon me; curse me!—anything but part me from him!’
Philammon had not the heart to answer her; but he made an involuntary gesture of sorrowful dissent.
‘No! Call me what I am!—what he called me just now!—but do not take me away! Strike me, as he struck me!—anything but parting!’
‘Struck you? The curse of God be on him!’
‘Ah, do not curse him!—not him! It was not a blow, indeed!—only a push—a touch—and it was my fault—all mine. I angered him—I upbraided him;—I was mad.... Oh, why did he deceive me? Why did he let me dance?—command me to dance?’