and more private than the stars, Helena. Isn't it fine to be up here,
with the sky for nearest neighbour?'

'I did well to ask you to come?' she inquired wistfully. He turned to
her.

'As wise as God for the minute,' he replied softly. 'I think a few
furtive angels brought us here--smuggled us in.'

'And you are glad?' she asked. He laughed.

'_Carpe diem_,' he said. 'We have plucked a beauty, my dear. With this
rose in my coat I dare go to hell or anywhere.'

'Why hell, Siegmund?' she asked in displeasure.

'I suppose it is the _postero_. In everything else I'm a failure,
Helena. But,' he laughed, 'this day of ours is a rose not many men
have plucked.'

She kissed him passionately, beginning to cry in a quick, noiseless
fashion.

'What does it matter, Helena?' he murmured. 'What does it matter? We are
here yet.'

The quiet tone of Siegmund moved her with a vivid passion of grief. She
felt she should lose him. Clasping him very closely, she burst into
uncontrollable sobbing. He did not understand, but he did not interrupt
her. He merely held her very close, while he looked through her shaking