I glanced at the other: it was lovely as hand could be, and I felt that, if I did less than loathe her, I should love her.

Not to dally with usurping emotions, I turned my eyes aside.
She started to her feet.

I sat motionless, looking down.
"To me she may be true!" said my vanity.

For a moment I was tempted to love a lie.
An odour, rather than the gentlest of airy pulses, was fanning me.
I glanced up.

She stood erect before me, waving her lovely arms in seemingly mystic fashion.
A frightful roar made my heart rebound against the walls of its cage.
The alabaster trembled as if it would shake into shivers.