He gazed upon her with burning eyes.
"No—no! Why more empty dreams, that can never be?"
She pointed in silence to the entrance of the temple.
Otto held out both hands, to assist her in descending the sloping rock. She appeared nervous and uncertain of foot. Hurriedly and agitated, anxious to gain the entrance she slipped and nearly fell. In the next moment she was caught up in his arms and clasped passionately to his heart.
"Stephania—Stephania," he whispered, "I love you—I love you! Away with every restraint! Let them slay me, if they will, by every death my falsehood deserves,—but let it be here,—here at your feet."
Stephania trembled like an aspen in his strong embrace, and strove to release herself, but he pressed her more closely to him, scarcely knowing that he did so, but feeling that he held the world, life, happiness and salvation in this beautiful Roman. His brain was in a whirl; everything seemed blotted out,—there was no universe, no existence, no ambition, nothing but love,—love,—love,—beating through every fibre of his frame.
The woman was very pale.
Timidly she lifted her head. He gazed at her in speechless suspense; he saw as in a vision the pure radiance of her face, the star-like eyes shining more and more closely into his. Then came a touch, soft and sweet as a rose-leaf pressed against his lips and for one moment he remembered nothing. Like Paris of old, he was caught up in a cloud of blinding gold, not knowing which was earth, which heaven.
For a moment nothing was to be heard, save the hard breathing of these two, then Otto held Stephania off at an arm's length, gazing at her, his soul in his eyes.
"You are more beautiful than the angels," he whispered.