now they sat mutely together and did not know what to say to one another. At Spinoza's desire Olympia sang the ballad he had surprised her while singing the first time he saw her. She sang the refrain
"You are my own true wife,
No other shall be my own for life"
with such melting tenderness, and drew out the notes of the organ by which she accompanied herself into such long-drawn sighs that Spinoza painfully missed the repose which the song had once given to his agitated heart. It was with difficulty that he refrained from clasping her to him and sealing the melodious spring of song with a kiss. He could trust himself no longer, so he took his hat and went away. Olympia took the lamp and lighted him down the steps, but without a word. Below Spinoza held out his hand; she laid her curly head on his breast; he embraced her; her heart beat violently under his hand.
"Dear Olympia," he said, "I conjure you by all that is holy, love me not; I am not worthy of it."
"I must love you," she said. "Command my heart to cease beating. I cannot leave you!" Her voice trembled; he pressed her closer to his breast, and held her fast with an ardent kiss. He then tore himself from her embrace and rushed out. Olympia sprang warbling up the steps and cried in
