When she ceased, he
gazed into her eyes. They were no longer deep and calm like forest lakes;
the tender-glowing blue quivered, as with a spark of the young girl's
soul, in the beams of the moon then rising.
'Oh, Margarita!' said the youth, in tones that sank to sighs: 'what am I
to win your thanks, though it were my life for such a boon!'
He took her hand, and she did not withdraw it. Twice his lips dwelt upon
those pure fingers.
'Margarita: you forgive me: I have been so long without hope. I have
kissed your hand, dearest of God's angels!'
She gently restrained the full white hand in his pressure.
'Margarita! I have thought never before death to have had this sacred
bliss. I am guerdoned in advance for every grief coming before death.'
She dropped on him one look of a confiding softness that was to the youth
like the opened gate of the innocent garden of her heart.
'You pardon me, Margarita? I may call you my beloved? strive, wait, pray,
hope, for you, my star of life?'
Her face was so sweet a charity!
'Dear love! one word!--or say nothing, but remain, and move not.
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