iss
it so hard--no--Oh, Nino, my own dear Nino--"

What should have followed in her gentle speech is lacking, for many
and most sweet reasons. I need not tell you that the taper was
extinguished, and they stood locked in each other's arms against the
open door, with only the reflection of the moon from the houses
opposite to illuminate their meeting.

There was and is to me something divinely perfect and godlike in these
two virgin hearts, each so new to their love, and each so true and
spotless of all other. I am old to say sweet things of loving, but I
cannot help it; for though I never was as they are, I have loved much
in my time. Like our own dear Leopardi, I loved not the woman, but the
angel which is the type of all women, and whom not finding I perished
miserably as to my heart. But in my breast there is still the temple
where the angel dwelt, and the shrine is very fragrant still with the
divine scent of the heavenly roses that were about her. I think, also,
that all those who love in this world must have such a holy place of
worship in their hearts. Sometimes the kingdom of the soul and the
palace of the body are all Love's, made beautiful and rich with rare
offerings of great constancy and faith; and all the countless
creations of transcendent genius, and all the vast aspirations of
far-reaching power, go up in reverent order to do homage at Love's
altar, before they come forth, like giants, to make the great world
tremble and reel in its giddy grooves.

And with another it is different. The world is not his; he is the
world's, and all his petty doings have its gaudy stencil blotched upon
them. Yet haply even he has a heart, and somewhere in its fruitless
fallows stands a poor ruin, that never was of much dignity at its
best,--poor and broken, and half choked with weeds and briers; but
even thus the weeds are fragrant herbs, and the briers are wild roses,
of few and misshapen petals, but sweet, nevertheless. For this ruin
was once a shrine too, that his mean hands and sterile soul did try
most ineffectually to build up as a shelter for all that was ever
worthy in him.

Now, therefore, I say, Love, and love truly and long,--even for ever;
and if you can do other things well, do them; but if not, at least
learn to do that, for it is a very gentle thing and sweet in the
learning. Some of you laugh at me, and say, Behold, this old-fashioned
driveller, who does not even know that love is no longer in the
fas