On this night, I made a discovery—
That I loved Busie with that holy, burning love which is so wonderfully described in our "Song of Songs." Big fiery letters seemed to carve themselves out before my eyes. They formed themselves into the words which I had only just recited, my father and I—the words of the "Song of Songs." I read the carved words, letter by letter.
"Love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame."
On this night, I sat down at my open window, and I asked of the night which was full of secrets and mysteries, that she should tell me this secret:
"Is it true that I have lost Busie for ever? Is it then true?" ...
But she is silent—this night of secrets and mysteries. And the secret must remain a secret for me—until the morrow.
"Tomorrow," Busie had said to me, "we will talk."
Ah! Tomorrow we will talk!...
Only let the night go by—only let it vanish, this night!
This night! This night!