The figure had stopped before the door and now, raising its head, gazed
with wide eyes upward at the moon, and--he was not mistaken--it was no
spectre of darkness; it was she for whom every pulse of his heart
throbbed--Eva!

No human creature had ever seemed to him so divinely fair as she in her
long white night-robe, over which fell the thick waves of her light hair.
The horror which had seized him yielded to the most ardent yearning.
Pressing his hand upon his throbbing heart, he watched her every
movement. He longed to go forward to meet her, yet a supernatural spell
seemed to paralyse his energy. He would sooner have dared clasp in his
arms the image of a beautiful Madonna than this embodiment of pure,
helpless, gracious innocence.

Now she herself drew nearer, but he felt as if his will was broken, and
with timid awe he drew back one step, and then another, till the chain
stopped him.

Just at that moment she paused, stretched out her white arm with a
beckoning gesture, and again turned towards the house, Heinz following
because he could not help it, her sign drew him after her with magnetic
power.

Now Eva entered the dimly lighted corridor, and again her uplifted hand
seemed to invite him to follow. Then--the impetuous throbbing of his
heart almost stifled him--she set her little white foot on the first step
of the stairs and led the way up to the first landing, where she paused,
lifting her face to the open window, through which the moonbeams streamed
into the hall, flooding her head, her figure, and every surrounding
object with their soft light.