"Do not leave me thus," he begged with outstretched arms.
Stephania started away from him, as if in terror.
"Do not touch me,—as you are a man—"
Otto's hand went to his head. Was he waking? Was he dreaming? Was this the same woman who had but a moment ago—
He had not time to think out the thought.
He felt his neck encircled by an airy form and arms, and lips whose sweetness made his senses reel were breathlessly pressed upon his own.
But for an evanescent instant the sensation endured.
A voice whispered low: "Otto!"
When he tried to embrace the mocking phantom he grasped the empty air.
He rushed madly forward, but at this instant there arose a wild uproar and clamour around him. The silver moon on the fountain burst into a blaze of whirling light, which illumined the whole grotto. The shrill summons of a bell was to be heard as from the depths of the fountain, and suddenly the verdant precincts were crowded with a most extraordinary company, shouting, hooting, laughing, yelling, and waving torches. Satyrs, nymphs, fauns, and all varieties of sylvan deities poured out of every nook and cranny by which there was an entrance, all shrieking execration on the profaner of the sacred solitudes and brandishing sundry weapons appropriate to their qualities. The satyrs wielded their crooked staves, the fauns their stiff pine-wreaths, the nymphs their branches of oak, and a loud clamour arose. But by far the most formidable personages were a number of shepherds with huge boar-spears, who made their appearance on every side.