"Here you stand, trembling and shaking, without a word for him who loves you, for him--him--" The youth's voice faltered with emotion and sighing heavily, he pressed his hand to his brow.

Then he seemed to recollect himself and continued in a low, sad tone: "Here I stand, to tell you for the last time the state of my heart.

You should hear sweet words, but grief and pain will pour bitter drops into everything I say.

I have uttered in the language of poetry, when my heart impelled me, that for which dry prose possesses no power of expression.

Read these pages, Maria, and if they wake an echo in your soul, oh! treasure it.