"She met me perfectly unchanged; her beauty was only heightened by an additional fulness; her cheeks, with their ivory color, were slightly flushed from the excitement of this meeting. "She took my hand in both of hers and pressed it warmly, as if I were an old friend. "'I know everything about you,' she said; 'I sorrowed with you, and how deeply! Although you did not know. I tried several times to write--but the words always failed me.' "At first I could say nothing in reply. I felt with too much consternation that her power over me was as strong as in those first days. The tones of her voice; her dark, often passionately burning eyes; the beautiful lips that seemed to have forgotten to smile; the whole witchery of long ago was again active. We walked up and down the empty room; her companion did not appear. I could hardly preserve a tolerable composure. "Instead of personal things, I spoke about her journey, and learned that she was to remain a week or two in Engelberg. Her nerves were unstrung; she suffered from insomnia. Then her brother was to come for her, as she had decided to accompany him to his embassy at Madrid. "'And your husband?' I asked carelessly. She looked at me distantly, almost reproachfully. 'He has not been among the living for some years,' she said in a monotone; 'I thought you knew it. Were not the sad circumstances of his suicide at Monaco in all the papers?' "'Certainly,' I replied; 'but I read of a new marriage--' "'It was a foolish rumor,' she said, staring gloomily at the ground; 'I would never have left my brother to play a _rôle_ in the farce of the Second Empire. Could you really believe that of me?' "I was unable to answer. A storm was raging in me which swept away all power of thought. She was free, and I? Was I still bound? How was it that her power over me died in the very moment when I might have yielded without hesitation? I saw the beautiful, once-loved woman near me; it seemed as if I had but to hold out my arms and take her, and--my arms hung heavily at my sides. Did a sword lie between us then, as before between my beloved wife and me? While we were standing silently side by side near the window, gazing down into the glorious valley, my mind became calm and clear. I realized distinctly and sadly that if I now offered her half of my heart I should act immorally. Strangely enough, these words sounded always in my ears, 'She sleeps, that we may be happy;' and even while I felt all the magic of her warm, breathing life, a cold shudder ran through me, as if a corpse were standing near, a past far mightier than the most warm-blooded present. "Out of sight is indeed _in_ mind.