He clasped her burning hand as he spoke; but at these words she felt as she had probably done a few hours before, when, hidden behind the oleander, she listened to the conversation in which he mentioned her kindly. Again a warm wave of joy seemed to surge upward in her breast, and she fancied that her heart was much too small for such a wealth of rapture, and it was already overflowing in hot waves, washing all grief far, far away.
Her gift had been accepted.
The red pinks looked at her from his doublet, and she imagined that everything around was steeped in rosy light, and that a musical tinkling and singing echoed in her ears.
Never had she experienced such a feeling of happiness.
Now she even succeeded in moving her lips, and the man, who still held her little burning hand clasped in his first heard his own name very faintly uttered; then her parched lips almost inaudibly repeated the exclamation: “Too late!” and again, “Too late!”
The next instant she pressed her left hand upon her panting breast. The rosy hue around her blended with the red tint of the pinks, and another haemorrhage bore the restless wanderer to that goal where every mortal journey ends.
ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS:
Repeated the exclamation: “Too late!” and again, “Too late!
ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS FOR THE ENTIRE “IN THE BLUE PIKE”:
Arrogant wave of the hand, and in an instructive tone
Buy indugence for sins to be committed in the future
Honest anger affords a certain degree of enjoyment
Mirrors were not allowed in the convent
Ovid, ‘We praise the ancients’
Pays better to provide for people’s bodies than
for their brains
Repeated the exclamation: “Too late!”
and again, “Too late!
Who watches for his neighbour’s faults has a
hundred sharp eyes
Who gives great gifts, expects great gifts again
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