Then you repeated, 'I adore you,' in a voice which trembled so, that I have never heard anything truer or more beautiful, for you were right as a god is right.
"Alas!" he said.
He saw the tears in her eyes.

Then he bowed his head.

When he lifted it again, I had a vague intuition that he would know what to answer, but had not yet formulated how to say it.
"Poor creatures, a brief existence, a few stray thoughts in the depths of a room--that is what we are," she said, lifting her head and looking at him, hoping for an impossible contradiction, as a child cries for a star.
He murmured: "Who knows what we are ?".

.

.