e;
and even then, in the sunshine, and feeling that I had no single cause
for care or grief, I was unhappy, with a reflex mournfulness.

And as I sat thus, it seemed that some one came and sat beside me
without speaking, and I did not turn to look at him; but ever as I sat
there and felt that he was beside me, the sadness lifted from my heart,
until it grew so full of joy that tears rose to my eyes. Then he who was
beside me placed his hand upon mine, and I looked at him. It was Eugen
Courvoisier. His face and his eyes were full of sadness; but I knew
that he loved me, though he said but one word, "Forgive!" to which I
answered, "Can you forgive?" But I knew that I alluded to something much
deeper than that silly little episode of having cut him at the theater.
He bowed his head; and then I thought I began to weep, covering my face
with my hands; but they were tears of exquisite joy, and the peace at my
heart was the most entire I had ever felt. And he loosened my hands, and
drew me to him and kissed me, saying "My love!" And as I felt--yes,
actually felt--the pressure of his lips upon mine, and felt the spring
shining upon me, and heard the very echo of the twitter of the birds,
saw the light fall upon the water, and smelled the scent of the acacias,
and saw the Lotus-blume as she--

"Duftet und weinet und zittert
Vor Liebe und Liebesweh,"

I awoke, and confronted a gray February morning, felt a raw chilliness
in the air, heard a cold, pitiless rain driven against the window; knew
that my head ached, my heart harmonized therewith; that I was awake, not
in a dream; that there had been no spring morning, no acacias, no
nightingales; above all, no love--remembered last night, and roused to
the consciousness of another day, the necessity of waking up and living
on.

Nor could I rest or sleep. I rose and contemplated through the window
the driving rain and the soaking street, the sorrowful naked trees, the
plain of the parade ground, which looked a mere waste of mud and
half-melted ice; the long plain line of the Caserne itself--a cheering
prospect truly!

When I went down-stairs I found Sir Peter, in heavy traveling overcoat,
standing in the hall; a carriage stood at the door; his servant was
putting in his master's luggage and rugs. I paused in astonishment. Sir
Peter looked at me and smiled with the dubious benevolence which he was
in the habit of extending to me.

"I am very sorry to be obliged to quit