A slim moon hung in the west, considerately withholding a part of her light that the stars might twinkle the brighter in their vain effort to rival Bettina's eyes.

The night wind came to me, odor-laden from the roses, only to show me how poor a thing it was compared with Bettina's breath upon my cheek and its sweetness in my nostrils.

Now and then a belated bird sang its sleepy song, only to remind me of the melody of her lullabies, and the cooing dove moaned out its plaintive call lest I forget the pain in her breast while selfishly remembering the ache in my own.

Then I thought of what the Good Book says about "bright clouds," and I prayed that my pain might make me a better man and might lead me to help Bettina in the days of her sorrowing, which I knew were at hand.
Soon after I had kissed the hands of the king and the queen, I met George's brother, Count Anthony Hamilton.

He had never been friendly to his younger brother, and had ceased to look upon him as a brother at all after his disgraceful reformation.