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A STORY OF BOHEMIAN LOVE
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him from head to foot, started a brighter fire on the hearth, and looked around for something to eat, acting like a father whose lost son had just returned. But suddenly leaving all that he had attempted for the comfort of the harper, he came back to him and again pressed his hands, and finally embraced him. It seemed that he was trying to convince himself that it was not a vision deceiving him.

Oh, no, no! it was no illusion. It was really the harper that had revealed himself to him in the moonlight like a messenger from the other world. It was really the harper who had had so many longing questions on his lips, whose painful doubt had changed into enthusiasm when he explained to him the loftiness of human life and dived with him into the secrets of the universe.

“I did not think,” he finally said, “that there was strength enough in your young heart to rid itself so quickly of the sweet bonds of love, and resist the tempting voice of earthly luxury. Your coming back to me has dispersed all my former suspicions of you and