And thus she rambled through the still domain,
Room after room, again, and yet again.
But, to retrace our story, still we say,
To this saloon the maiden took her way;
Where she beheld our youth, and frighten’d ran,
And so their friendship in her fear began.
But dare she thither once again advance,
And still suppose the man will think it chance? 250
Nay, yet again; and what has chance to do
With this?—I know not; doubtless Fanny knew.