Inside were men and women, many faces To me well known. Still sorrow lay on all, And secret fearful grief. With strange emotion, Wellnigh with looks of pity, on me gazed they Till my own soul with terror was pervaded, As though foreboding some unknown misfortune. Old Margaret I straightway recognized, Gazed on her fixedly, but yet she spake not. “Where is Maria?” ask’d I, yet she spake not, But softly seized my hand, and led me on Through many a long and brightly-lighted chamber, Where splendour, pomp, and deathlike silence reign’d And to a darksome room at length she brought me, And, with her face averted from me, pointed Toward the form that sat upon the sofa. “Art thou Maria?” ask’d I. Inwardly I was myself astounded at the firmness With which I spoke. Like stone and hollow Sounded a voice: “That is the name they call me.” A piercing agony straight froze me through, For that cold hollow tone, alas, was yet The once enchanting voice of my Maria! And yonder woman in pale lilac dress, In negligent attire, with unveil’d bosom, With glassy staring eyes, like leather seeming The muscles of the cheeks of her white face,-- Alas, that woman once was the most lovely, The blooming, pleasing, sweet and kind Maria! “Your travels have been long” she said aloud In cold, unpleasing, but familiar accents,-- “You look no longer languishing, my friend, “You’re well in health, your loins and calves elastic. “Show your solidity.” A silly smile Play’d the while round her yellow, pallid mouth. In my confusion utter’d I these accents: “I’ve been inform’d that thou art married now?” “Ah yes!” she carelessly replied with laughing: “I have a stick of wood that’s cover’d over “With leather, call’d a husband. Still, for all that, “Wood is but wood!” And then she laugh’d perversely Till chilling anguish through my spirit ran, And doubt upon me seized:--are those the modest, The flowery-modest lips of my Maria? But presently she rose, took quickly up From off the chair her cashmere shawl, and threw it Around her neck, my arm took hold of then, Drew me away, and through the open housedoor, And led me on through thicket, field, and meadow.