'Heavens! how late! Help me to put on my cloak,' exclaimed the poor creature, turning to Andrea.
He only clasped her once more in his arms, kissing her furiously, blindly, madly, with a devouring passion, stifling on her lips his own insane desire to cry aloud the name of Elena.
At last she managed to gasp in an expiring voice—
'You are drawing my life out of me.' But his passionate vehemence seemed to make her happy.
'My love, my soul, all, all mine!' she said.
And again, blissfully—'I can feel your heart beating—so fast, so fast.'
At last, with a sigh, 'I must go now.'
Andrea was as lividly pale and convulsed as if he had just committed a murder.
'What ails you?' she asked with tender solicitude.
He tried to smile. 'I never felt so profound an emotion,' he answered.