exclaimed:

'Why, Nydia! Nydia! I say, art thou ill or in pain? Nay, thy face
speaks for thee. What ails my poor child?' As he spoke, he put down
the cup and rose from his seat to approach her, when a sudden pang shot
coldly to his heart, and was followed by a wild, confused, dizzy
sensation at the brain. The floor seemed to glide from under him--his
feet seemed to move on air--a mighty and unearthly gladness rushed upon
his spirit--he felt too buoyant for the earth--he longed for wings, nay,
it seemed in the buoyancy of his new existence, as if he possessed them.
He burst involuntarily into a loud and thrilling laugh. He clapped his
hands--he bounded aloft--he was as a Pythoness inspired; suddenly as it
came this preternatural transport passed, though only partially, away.
He now felt his blood rushing loudly and rapidly through his veins; it
seemed to swell, to exult, to leap along, as a stream that has burst its
bounds, and hurries to the ocean. It throbbed in his ear with a mighty
sound, he felt it mount to his brow, he felt the veins in the temples
stretch and swell as if they could no longer contain the violent and
increasing tide--then a kind of darkness fell over his eyes--darkness,
but not entire; for through the dim shade he saw the opposite walls glow
out, and the figures painted thereon seemed, ghost-like, to creep and
glide. What was most strange, he did not feel himself ill--he did not
sink or quail beneath the dread frenzy that was gathering over him. The
novelty of the feelings seemed bright and vivid--he felt as if a younger
health had been infused into his frame. He was gliding on to
madness--and he knew it not!

Nydia had not answered his first question--she had not been able to
reply--his wild and fearful laugh had roused her from her passionate
suspense: she could not see his fierce gesture--she could not mark his
reeling and unsteady step as he paced unconsciously to and fro; but she
heard the words, broken, incoherent, insane, that gushed from his lips.
She became terrified and appalled--she hastened to him, feeling with her
arms until she touched his knees, and then falling on the ground she
embraced them, weeping with terror and excitement.

'Oh, speak to me! speak! you do not hate me?--speak, speak!'

'By the bright goddess, a beautiful land this Cyprus! Ho! how they fill
us with wine instead of blood! now they open the veins of the Faun
yonder, to show how the tide within bubbles a