sun; delicate, maidenly colours, lovely lines and sweet fullness of
youth played like a flower garland about the brow of a goddess, with
soft blossoms around the holy seriousness and mighty will on brow and
lip, and around the dark glow of the large eye.

As Albano and Linda walked on the mountain Epomeo, looking upon the
coasts and promontories of that rare region, upon cities and sea, upon
Vesuvius without flame or thunder, white with sand or snow, Albano's
heart was an asbestos leaf written over and cast into the fire--burning,
not consuming; his whole former life went out, the leaf shone fiery and
pure for Linda's hand. He gazed into her face lovingly and serenely as a
sun-god in morning redness, and pressed her hands. "Give them to me for
ever!" said he earnestly.

She inclined modestly her beautiful head upon his breast, but
immediately raised it again, with its large, moist eyes, and said
hurriedly, "Go now! Early to-morrow come, Albano! Adio! Adio!"

Count Gaspard bestowed his paternal consent on the union, and the lovers
returned separately to Hohenfliess. A difference arose; Albano was still
bent on warring for France, Linda sought to dissuade him. They
quarrelled, and parted in anger.

On the day after the quarrel Linda received a letter in Albano's
handwriting begging forgiveness, and asking for a meeting in the gardens
of Lilar. She went there at the appointed evening hour, although, owing
to the night-blindness from which, like many Spaniards, she often
suffered, she could not see her lover. But she kissed him, and heard his
burning words of love.