"Thou art very bold, Philina," cried she: "I have spoiled thee. Let me never hear the like again."
"If you are angry, then am I unhappy," said Philina, springing up, and hastening from the room.
Wilhelm still held that lovely hand in both of his. His eyes were fixed on the bracelet-clasp: he noticed, with extreme surprise, that his initials were traced on it, in lines of brilliants.
"Have I, then," he modestly inquired, "your own hair in this precious ring?"
"Yes," replied she in a faint voice; then, suddenly collecting herself, she said, and pressed his hand, "Arise, and fare you well!"
"Here is my name," cried he, "by the most curious chance!" He pointed to the bracelet-clasp.
"How?" cried the countess: "it is the cipher of a female friend!"
"They are the initials of my name. Forget me not. Your image is engraven on my heart, and will never be effaced. Farewell! I must be gone."
He kissed her hand, and meant to rise; but, as in dreams, some strange thing fades and changes into something stranger, and the succeeding wonder takes us by surprise; so, without knowing how it happened, he found the countess in his arms: her lips were resting upon his, and their warm mutual kisses were yielding them that blessedness which mortals sip from the topmost sparkling foam on the freshly poured cup of love.
Her head lay on his shoulder: the disordered ringlets and ruffles were forgotten. She had thrown her arm round him: he clasped her with vivacity, and pressed her again and again to his breast. Oh that such a moment could but last forever! And woe to envious Fate that shortened even this brief moment to our friends!