He hung on her speechless, breathless; the cloud of his life broke; burning tears of passion and pain and joy gushed out; all the arms into which the stream of his love had hitherto run round in shallows, rushed together roaring, and grasped and bore _one_ form. "Weep not, my good Albano; we surely love each other again forever," said Linda, and the tender, beautiful lip gave him the first, fervent kiss. Then the fire-wheel of ecstasy whirled round and bore him with it, and around the head which hung lashed thereto the circling flames waved high. From a dread of being seen, if he should look, and from pleasure, he had closed his eyes; now he opened them,--and there, so near to him and in his arms, he beheld the lofty form, the proud, blooming countenance and the moist, warm eyes of love. "Thou heavenly one," said he, "kill me in this hour, that so I may die in heaven. How can I wish to live any longer after it? O that I could pour my soul into my tears and my life into thine, and then be no more!" "Albano," said she, "why art thou to-day so altered, so sad, so tender?" "Call me rather," said he, "by _thy_ name, as lovers exchange names in Otaheite. Perhaps I have drunk a little, too; but I truly repent of yesterday, and I truly love thee anew. Ah, thou, dost thou, then, also love my very innermost self, Linda?" "Sweet youth, can I then, now, choose but love thee eternally? I do, indeed, henceforth cleave to thee and thou to me." "Ah, thou dost not know me. When does man know, then, that precisely he, this very _I_, is meant and loved? Only forms are embraced, only the fleshly covering is enfolded in the arms; who, then, clasps a person to a person? _Perchance God_." "And I do thee," said Linda. "O Linda, wilt thou still love me in my grave, when the chaff of life is flown away,--still love me in my hell, when I have deceived thee out of love to thee? Is love, then, love's justification?" "I love thee always, so long as thou lovest me. Art thou the poison-flower; then am I the bee, and die on the sweet cup." The bride sank on his neck. He clasped her passionately, and grew more and more like the glacier, which by very warmth rolls further onward, and in melting desolates. Around him danced the pleasures with heavenly faces, but showed him in their hands the masks of furies. "Thou wilt die of love; I am already dead from love. O, thou knowest not how long ago I loved thee!" he answered.