Schwartz lay near it beneath heavy boughs, smoking and perspiring in peace.

Neither of us spoke.

And it was now tempered by a fit of alarm that I renewed my search.

So when I beheld her, intense gratitude broke my passion; when I touched her hand it was trembling for absolute assurance of her safety.

She was leaning against a tree, gazing on the ground, a white figure in that iron-moted gloom.
'Otto!' she cried, shrinking from the touch; but at sight of me, all softly as a light in the heavens, her face melted in a suffusion of wavering smiles, and deep colour shot over them, heavenly to see.