, nestling trustingly close to him. "Each minute in
your arms is worth more than all the rest of my life before."
"And you are to me as the sap of the trees in spring, that thrills
me with ecstasy and makes me forget all else. And I _will_ feel it
so!--drown my sad autumn and my joyless winter in the delight of
spring. And I bless the fate that led you to me--there is none like
you!"
"None?" the girl repeated happily, and yet in doubt. "Oh, if only I
could be as you think."
"You are so! Every drop of blood in you is love and fire. The lightest
touch of your shoe against my foot is more than the warmest embrace
from any other--your breath is like a secret caress; you bring a scent
of hawthorn with you everywhere that lifts me almost to madness."
"Do not talk like that, Olof. I am nothing--it is you that are all.
Tell me--are all lovers as happy as we?"
"No."
"Why not? Is it because they--they can't love as we do?"
"They _dare_ not! They fear to be happy. Oh, how blind the world is!
Wandering sadly with prayer, book and catechism in hand, when love
and spring are waiting for all who will. And those who have grown old,
when their blood is as lead in their veins, and they can but gaze with
beggars' eyes on their own youth--they would have us too slaves of the
prayer book and catechism like themselves."
"Is it really so...?"
"Yes, it is true. Only while we are young, only while the flood of
youth runs free and bright in our veins can we be happy. And they are
the greatest who dare to demand their share of life in full, to plunge
unafraid into the waters, letting the waves break on their temples and
life's salt flood wash their cheeks."
"And have I dared all this, Olof? Tell me, have I not?"
"Yes, you have. And it is just that which makes you lovely and
bewitching as you are. It is a glorious thing to give oneself lip
entirely to another, without question, without thought of return or
reckoning--only to bathe body and soul in the deep wells of life!"
"Yes, yes.... And, do you know, Olof...?" The girl spoke earnestly,
with a quiver in her voice.
"What? Tell me?"
But she could say no more, and, bursting into tears, hid her burning
cheek against his breast, her body shaking with sobs.
"What--child, you are crying? What is it?"
"I don't know...." The girl was sobbing still. "Only that I
can't--can't give you all I would."
"But you have given me more than I ever dared to hope for!"
"Not so
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