“My beauty,” answered she, “is an effect of the imagination; for it does not exist in a form that thou canst appreciate. All that is here of me is my mind. Address me then as a soul and not as a woman. About what did you wish me to advise you?”
“I no longer remember.”
“And the cause of this forgetfulness?”
“Is thy presence.”
“Try to remember.”
“No, I do not wish to.”
“Then, adieu!”
“No, no,” I exclaimed, approaching her, as if to retain her, but I stopped short—terrified, for the light suddenly paled and the apparition seemed fading away.
“In the name of heaven, remain!” I went on, with anguish. “I am submissive, my love for you is chaste.”
“What love?” she asked, reassuming her brilliancy.