She was in them enfolded, and their lips were one.
“Oh, Gustav, you have come to me,” cried Inarime.
“At last! At long last! Did it seem long to you, dearest?”
“Long! I tried so hard to do without you, but it grew harder each day. But you are with me now, dear one.”
“Not again to leave you, Inarime. My own, how best shall I serve you? How shall I treat you? It is as if a mortal were mated with a goddess.”
“You, too, O love, are to me as a god,” whispered Inarime.
“Nay, nay, beloved, you must not so exalt your worshipper,” protested Gustav, laughing, while he drew her to a stone and gently forced her to sit down, that he might kneel before her, and hold her clasped.
He looked up at her in mute adoration, and smiled. She framed his dusky, glowing face with her hands, and her own, bent over it, looked glorious in its joy.
“Dearest,” he cried, “bliss cannot madden or kill, or I should not now be kneeling here, alive and sane.”
“Oh, Gustav, life is so short. No wonder lovers must have their hereafter. We may not reach an end.”