Was it a crime that he
struck back when she publicly taunted him? Yes--he felt as guilty as
if he had murdered his dearest friend.
The twilight of the warm summer night deepens and the moon rises.
The sound of music from the drawing-room floats through his window. He
goes into the garden and sits down under a walnut tree. Alone! The
chords of the piano blend with the words of the song:
When the veil of night was drawn
And crowded earth, mysterious sea
Became one sweet, enchanted ground
For us, until the starless dawn
Dissolved the failing moon--then we
In one long ecstasy were bound.
Now, I, alone in silence and in pain
Weep for the ache of well-remembered bliss,
For you who never can return again,
For you, my spring time, for your love, your kiss.
He strolls through the garden and looks through the window. There she
sits, his living poem, which he has composed for his own delight. She
sings with tears in her voice. The ladies on the sofas look at one
another significantly.
But behind the laurel bushes on a garden seat two men are sitting,
smoking, and chatting. He can hear what they say.
"Nothing but the effect of the cognac."
"Yes, they say that she drinks.
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