“Oh, Justinian, if you only knew how I love her!”
The nightingale, hitherto silent, now began its song, upon which the old man good-humoredly pushed Maurice to the door.
“Go to bed, my son; that bird will tell me the tale of love much better than you will.”
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE ALTAR INSCRIBED ΘΕΌΝ.
By this altar stone I swear
Never more to part from thee;
Thine in life and death to be,
And thy future fortunes share
Be the weather wild or fair,
Dry on land or wet at sea,