The clouds fell, forming a dark canopy. Suddenly the lovers found themselves kneeling by a dead body, which old David was protecting from prying curiosity, and insisted on burying with his own hands.
Outside, the first summer of the nineteenth century was in all its glory; the lovers fancied they could hear a voice in the sunbeams. They breathed heavenly perfume from the new-born flowers, and said as they took each other by the hand:
"The vast ocean that gleams out there is an image of that we saw above!"
"Whither are you going?" asked Pastor Becker.
"We mean to go to God," said they. "Come with us, father."
Geneva and Paris,
December 1833—November 1835.