'They may well say every lover has a lucky star,' thought Sanin, and he called to Emil.
The latter turned and at once rushed to him. Sanin cut short his transports, handed him the note, and explained to whom and how he was to deliver it.. . . Emil listened attentively.
'So that no one sees?' he inquired, assuming an important and mysterious air, that said, 'We understand the inner meaning of it all!'
'Yes, my friend,' said Sanin and he was a little disconcerted; however, he patted Emil on the cheek.. . . 'And if there should be an answer.. . . You will bring me the answer, won't you? I will stay at home.'
'Don't worry yourself about that!' Emil whispered gaily; he ran off, and as he ran nodded once more to him.
Sanin went back home, and without lighting a candle, flung himself on the sofa, put his hands behind his head, and abandoned himself to those sensations of newly conscious love, which it is no good even to describe. One who has felt them knows their languor and sweetness; to one who has felt them not, one could never make them known.
The door opened—Emil's head appeared.
'I have brought it,' he said in a whisper: 'here it is—the answer!'
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