before her. She felt restored to health and to herself. A sweet
weariness came over her. She lay down, and sank into a calm, quiet
sleep.




CHAPTER XIII


Edward, on his part, was in a very different temper. So little he
thought of sleeping that it did not once occur to him even to undress
himself. A thousand times he kissed the transcript of the document, but
it was the beginning of it, in Ottilie's childish, timid hand; the end
he scarcely dared to kiss, for he thought it was his own hand which he
saw. Oh, that it were another document! he whispered to himself; and, as
it was, he felt it was the sweetest assurance that his highest wish
would be fulfilled. Thus it remained in his hands, thus he continued to
press it to his heart, although disfigured by a third name subscribed to
it. The waning moon rose up over the wood. The warmth of the night drew
Edward out into the free air. He wandered this way and that way; he was
at once the most restless and the happiest of mortals. He strayed
through the gardens--they seemed too narrow for him; he hurried out
into the park, and it was too wide. He was drawn back toward the castle;
he stood under Ottilie's window. He threw himself down on the steps of
the terrace below. "Walls and bolts," he said to himself, "may still
divide us, but our hearts are not divided. If she were here before me,
into my arms she would fall, and I into hers; and what can one desire
but that sweet certainty!" All was stillness round him; not a breath was
moving;--so still it was, that he could hear the unresting creatures