But Azrael struck fresh chords and began another song-- "False is the world and all that is therein! Every day the sun forsakes the sky. Every day the sea forsakes her shores. Every year the swallow forsakes her nest. But the maiden who loves never forsakes her beloved." Still Banfi remained silent. There he sat with staring, bloodshot eyes, his head resting on his elbows, like a poor, mortally-wounded lion. And again the odalisk sang-- "If choice were thine, which wouldst thou choose--love with hell, or heaven without love?" Banfi stretched out his arms towards Azrael, and as the odalisk, casting away her mandolin, bent down to kiss his hand, he drew her to his breast, and the odalisk, softly stroking Banfi's forehead, said-- "What mean these wrinkles on thy noble brow, which I have never seen there before? Vainly do I charm them away with my kisses; they come back again and again. Wait!--I'll cover them with this diadem. So!--how well a kingly crown becomes thy brow!" Banfi uttered an inarticulate cry, tore the diadem from his head, and hurled it far away, while with the other hand he roughly repulsed the girl. Every line of his face proclaimed his agony of mind. The odalisk looked into his face and could read there everything which had happened. This passionate outburst, however, aroused Banfi from out of his dull despondency. He sprang from the couch, resumed with an effort his usual proud, devil-may-care look, and raising the girl into the air cried, with bitter, scornful mirth-- "Bring me wine! To-day I'll make merry! Over our heads the storm is howling--let it howl! We'll laugh at it, eh! my pretty wench? To-day is ours! On this one day we'll heap together everything which can bring bliss and mad delight, so as to leave nothing for the morrow. Wine and kisses and music--and hell-fire!" The girl skipped away like a chamois, and came back like a Hebe with a large silver salver covered with gold goblets. "No, not the golden pocals!" cried Banfi. "They won't break when we dash them against the wall. Serve the wine in Venetian crystals." The odalisk obediently brought forth the gorgeously-coloured and gilded Venetian glasses, then so much in vogue, and pushed a broad, short-legged table close to the couch. "Come, embrace me!" cried Banfi, drawing the girl to his bosom, and gazing into her abysmal black eyes. "My love is an endless sea," whispered the girl, her hands resting on Banfi's shoulder. "My desire is as hell itself, which drinks to the very dregs!" cried Banfi, embracing the odalisk and pressing a burning kiss on her lips, as if he would have drunk in her very soul. With that he seized the first glass that came to hand; the wine sparkled in the torch-light. Azrael's kisses had not yet softened his heart. With bitter scorn he raised the glass, and cried-- "I drink to my friends."