"Farewell!" she murmured, gently.
He repeated "Farewell!" and then suddenly added, "Will you not take one more look at the studio before you go?"
She found nothing unusual in this request. He led the way; she followed him, her whole being filled with compassion: she would have been nailed to the cross to relieve his pain,--the pain for which she was to blame.
The moonlight flooded the studio, lending an unreal appearance to the room, and in the magic light stood forth the figure of 'Blind Love,' athirst to reach its goal, staggering in the mire.
From the garden breathed a benumbing odour, and from the far distance floated towards the pair, like a yearning sigh, the song of the Venetian night-minstrels.
Erika looked about her sadly. "It was fair!" she murmured. "I thank you for it all. Adieu!"
She held out both her hands to him; she had wellnigh offered him her lips, in the desperation of her compassion.
He took her hands in his and bent over them. "It is, perhaps, better so," he said, and his voice had never been so tremulous and yet so tenderly beguiling. "The sacrifice you would have made for me was too great: I ought not to have accepted it at your hands. And you are right, we must spare those who are near to us; it must be. But for God's sake do not desert me quite! do not consign me to utter misery!"
She looked at him with eyes of wonder. She could not comprehend. What was there left for her to do for him?--what?
He kissed her hands alternately: she did not notice how he drew her towards him until she felt his hot breath upon her cheek. Then he said, softly, very softly, "You must return to your grandmother tonight, I know; you cannot devote your life to me; but--oh, Erika! our existence is made up of moments--grant me a moment's bliss now and then! you will not be the poorer, and I--I shall be richer than a king! The world shall never know; no shadow shall fall upon you, be sure----"