"Then, Heaven bless thee! good-night. Hark!—did I not hear something rustle in the thicket?"
"The wind sighing through the pine-trees, love."
"Then, adieu, till morning."
"Adieu, sweet one!"
The moon burst forth in full radiance, and revealed the manly form that hurried through the avenue; while clear as in noonday could be seen the slender white figure that watched his retreating steps.
He is hidden now, but she still lingers, listening enraptured to the fountain's murmur and the nightingale's song; looking upward at the moon as she wandered through heaven's pathless way, and thinking that never had earth or sky seemed so lovely before—
But hark! What sounds are those? A cry, a fearful cry rends the air; and it comes from the thicket where, a moment before, he disappeared from her sight.
She started—then, breathless as a statue, she listened in deadly suspense. Again that cry, that dreadful cry, pierces through the stillness of the night, freezing her young heart with horror! "His death-wail!" cried the wretched girl; and careless of danger, scarce knowing what she did, heeding nothing but the sound of her lover's voice, she sprang from the balcony, and as though moonbeams had drawn her thither, she swung herself to the ground. For one moment her slight form wavered, then she darted forward and flew through the avenue to the thicket. Away she sped, though the moon shone so bright that she could be distinctly seen, her own shadow following like a dusky phantom behind.
Be friendly, now, fair moon, and light her to her lover, that she may look into his eyes once more before they close forever!
She has reached the spot, and, with a low cry, she throws herself by the side of the tall figure that lies stretched at its length upon the green sward.