While they thus more and more slowly descended the mountain, and the nightingales warbled, and the myrtle-blossoms breathed their perfume, and the tepid breezes fluttered, and overhead the whole second world, like a veiled nun, looked with a holy eye through the silver-grating of the constellations, every heart overflowed with faithful love, and the brother and the sister and the beloved took alternately each other's hand. At once Linda stood upon the spot of yesterday's union and said, "Here he must go, Julienne!" and swiftly drew her hand out of his, and smoothed lightly his locks and cheek and then his eye, and asked, "How?" in the confusion of a dream. "Immediately," said Julienne; "one must, however, wait at least for the Italian winter, for the moon, before one can even go home." Then the brother fell upon the bosom of the tender sister, who would fain hereby procure for him a longer tarrying, and for her friend the privilege of seeing him again by a stronger illumination, and he exclaimed, with tears, "O sister! how much hast thou done for me, before I could do anything for thee, or even thank thee! Thou givest me, indeed, everything,--every joy, the highest felicity; O, what art thou like!" "There is the moon!" cried she; "now farewell, and a happy journey!" Like a silvery day the moon had climbed the mountains, and the transfigured beloved one saw again the blooming face of her beloved. He took her hand and said, "Farewell, Linda!" Long looked they upon each other, their eyes full of soul, and they grew more strange and exalted in each other's eyes. Then did he, without knowing how, press to his heart the noble maiden, like a blessed spirit embracing a spring sun,--and he touched her holy countenance with his, and like the red mornings of two worlds their lips melted together. Linda closed her eyes, and kissed with trembling, and only a single life and bliss rolled and glowed between two hearts and lips. Julienne gently enfolded the embrace with her own, and desired no other bliss. Thereupon all parted, without speaking again, or looking round. 113. CYCLE. Albano, with the new haste which now reigned in his actions, was already, beneath the cool morning star, flying from the happy soil. He told the architect, Dian, all his whole blessedness, because he knew how very much of a youth the man still remained in matters of love. "Bravo!" answered Dian, "who can escape without love in Italy? At least none of us. It is to be hoped your magnificent Juno is not so haughty toward you as toward other people: then there may well be for you a life of the gods." In the morning breezes, irradiated with sun and wave, he swept gliding along on the blue, liquid mirror between two heavens, and his eye was blest when it looked back at the Olympus of Epomeo, and blest when it looked back again on the coasts that gleamed up and down on the long, outspread market-place of the earth.