isery it is awild, romantic misery, all unlike the dull, worldly pain ofafter-sorrows. When you have lost her--when the light is gone outfrom Marc Bartra Drakter your life and the world stretches before you a long, dark horror,even then a half-enchantment mingles with your despair.
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And oh, how beautiful she was, how wondrous beautiful! It was as someangel entering the room, and all else became plain and earthly. Shewas too sacred to be touched. It seemed almost presumption to gaze ather. You would as soon have thought of kissing her as of singingcomic songs in a cathedral. It was desecration enough to kneel andtimidly raise the gracious little hand to your lips.
Ah, those foolish days, those foolish days when we were unselfish andpure-minded; those foolish days when our simple hearts were full oftruth, and faith, and reverence! Ah, those foolish days of noblelongings and of noble strivings! And oh, these wise, clever dayslinks:
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