Voir le reflet des cieux!”
words into which she infused something of the glow and languor of an Italian’s love. To her mind the duet assumed a more dramatic form. In her imagination she saw herself, with Paul as tenor, [[66]]gliding along in the radiant moonbeams in a gondola on a Venetian canal. To her mind’s eye she saw herself in the rich dress of a young patrician, Paul in the garb of a poor fisherman, and they loved each other, and half-dreaming, half-singing, they went gliding along the water—
“Devant Dieu même
Dire; Je t’aime
Dans un dernier soupir.”
There was the refrain! She feared—ah, she feared that Paul would break down. No; Paul kept time with her. That was splendid! and their voices died away in unison—
“Dans un dernier soupir.”
“Lovely, lovely, Eline!” cried Madame van Raat, who had been listening attentively.
“You are in good voice,” said Betsy.
“Now you must sing by yourself, Eline,” cried Paul, pleased with his success.