l
thee, I am drunk with thy beauty, and mad with intolerable desire for
the incomprehensible fascination of thy charm, and dost thou dream of
quenching my fire by talking about friends? I want no friendship from
thee. I will be more than a friend to thee, or less: aye! I would give
all the friendship in the three worlds for a single drop of nectar,
mixed of thy body and thy soul.

And as I spoke, she listened, putting up every now and then her hand,
as if to stop me: and when I ended, she stood, looking at me in
perplexity, as if utterly unable to decide what to do. And at last, I
said: Why dost thou say nothing? And she said, simply; I do not know
what to say. And I laughed aloud, lost in admiration of the
extraordinary simplicity of her incomparable reply. And I exclaimed: O
thou wonderful woman, how can I find words to express what I feel for
thee? And she said, as if with despair: I counted on thy recovery. And
I said: Count not on my recovery, for I never shall recover. And she
said, with a smile: Then, as it seems, I shall never have my music
lesson. And perhaps it would be better, if it ended here, without ever
having begun. And in any case, to-night, thy visit must of necessity
be a very short one, since I have other business, unexpectedly arisen,
to do. And so, shall we say good-night, without any more delay?

And I said slowly: If I must go, I must: for I will obey thee, order
what thou wilt. And yet, wilt thou not allow me at least to bid thee
good-bye, as thou didst last night?

And she looked at me, as I leaned towards her, as if with reproach,
and she stood for a moment, hesitating, and as it were, balanced in
the swing of her own beautiful irresolution. And then, after a while,
she sighed, and put out her hand, as if with resignation. And I drew
her to me with a clutch, and caught her in my arms, showering on her
lips and her eyes and her hair kisses that resembled a rain of fire:
while all the time she offered absolutely no resistance, allowing me
to do with her exactly as I pleased. And when at last I stopped to
breathe, looking at her with eyes dim with emotion, she said, very
gently, with a smile, lying just as she was, fettered in my arms:
Hast thou yet bid me good-bye, to thy satisfaction? And I said in a
low voice: Nay, not at all. For thou hast not yet kissed me in return,
even once. And as if out of compassion, she did as she was told:
kissing me gently, over and over again, for I would not le