the happiness of a spirit which has been moved to its utmost depths.
"Come!" she said. "Why do you look at me like that?"
Yet she knew why he was doing so, and a modest touch of triumph that she could so greatly have affected him filled her soul.
"Look at yourself in the mirror," she went on, "and you will see that your eyes are shining, and that—yes, really!—they have tears in them. How deeply you must feel music!"
"No—it is not music that I am feeling," he replied slowly; "but—but love!"
Her glance met his, and instantly she saw that he had uttered the word in spite of himself, that the word had got him in its power, and that the word had voiced the truth.
Recovering himself, he picked up his hat, and left the room. When he had gone she remained standing like a statue by the piano—her eyes cast down, and her breast rising and falling tumultuously.
