* * * * *
"Pansy—my wonderful delight—my love! You are like the night—witching, ensnaring, all the mystery of a summer night, when the summer lightning gleams."
"I never knew till now what youth is, what love is. Great and beautiful, coming like a king in a golden chariot, beckoning, calling, leading us on."
"Why are you trembling, love? And your hands are hot, and your eyes—what are they saying?"
"I don't know—it's very hot. No, no, it's only that I'm too happy…."
"Too happy?"
"No, no. I don't know what it is. Only I wish…."
"What is it? Tell me."
"I can't—I don't know what it is. I…."
"But tell me—can't you tell me what it is?"