I could almost believe that, like the forest flower, in this state and aspect it would endure for ever; endure and perhaps give of its own immortality to everything around it--to me, holding her in my arms and gazing fixedly on the pale face framed in its cloud of dark, silken hair; to the leaping flames that threw changing lights on the dim stony wall of rock; to old Nuflo and his two yellow dogs stretched out on the floor in eternal, unawakening sleep.
This feeling took such firm possession of my mind that it kept me for a time as motionless as the form I held in my arms.

I was only released from its power by noting still further changes in the face I watched, a more distinct advance towards conscious life.

The faint colour, which had scarcely been more than a suspicion of colour, had deepened perceptibly; the lids were lifted so as to show a gleam of the crystal orbs beneath; the lips, too, were slightly parted.
And, at last, bending lower down to feel her breath, the beauty and sweetness of those lips could no longer be resisted, and I touched them with mine.

Having once tasted their sweetness and fragrance, it was impossible to keep from touching them again and again.

She was not conscious--how could she be and not shrink from my caress?
Yet there was a suspicion in my mind, and drawing back I gazed into her face once more.