The stars exert a magical power over the soul; whoever gazes at them long has it drawn whither it does not desire, whither it fears to go.
What did Barthelemy behold in those stars? He saw the years of his youth, painted in sweet, glimmering pictures, as unlike those of the present as if either the one or the other must be a dream.
There were the three girlish figures sporting around him, weaving garlands for his head, fastening them on with kisses, amid merry laughter. How softly the palms were whispering!
They sat together in the little house, the grandmother, in her armchair, telling marvelous, terrible tales of famous warriors; the young girls casting timid glances at the windows, where the darkness of the gathering night appeared, and the fire on the hearth died slowly, while William's heart began to swell with eager desire to battle with these unknown perils, and win for himself a name like those of the heroes glorified by tradition. How softly the palms were whispering!
The moon shone brilliantly. The moonlight nights of the South are brighter than the days of the North. His Julietta, clinging to him, murmured tenderly: "How I love you; we will live and die together." William's head sank on his breast, and he fancied he clasped in his arms the whole kingdom of heaven. How softly the palms were whispering!
The young girl sat on the green shore; her white kerchief fluttered in the wind as she waited every evening for the ship on which her lover had sailed, waited with yearning and prayers. How her heart leaped when, on the distant horizon, she fancied she recognized the slender masts that appeared before her, and measured in her imagination, a hundred times over, the space which yawned between them. Her bosom heaved, her soul burned with joy and, as it came nearer and nearer, she threw kisses—
"What ship is that?" shouted Moody's harsh, strident tones close beside Barthelemy.
Roused from his waking dream, he cast a half startled, half angry glance at the speaker.
"What ship do you mean?"