"No: feel." And she gave him her hand.
Her little hand, between those of Giustino, was indeed not cold; it was burning.
"That is love," said she.
He lifted the hand gently to his lips, and kissed it lightly. And thereupon, her eyes glowed in the darkness, like human stars of passion.
"My love is consuming me," she went on, as if speaking to herself. "I can feel nothing else; neither cold, nor night, nor danger—nothing. I can only feel you. I want nothing but your love. I only want to live near you always—till death, and after death—always with you—always, always."
"Ah me!" sighed he, under his breath.
"What did you say?" she cried, eagerly.
"It was a sigh, dear one; a sigh over our dream."
"Don't talk like that; don't say that," she exclaimed.
"Why shouldn't I say it, Anna? The sweet dream that we have been dreaming together—any day we may have to wake from it. They aren't willing that we should live together."