The
windows on the ground-floor were dark, but the
sleeping apartments in the upper stories were
lighted. In Edith's room the inside shutters
were closed, but one of the windows was a little
down at the top. And as he stood gazing
with tremulous happiness up to that window,
a stanza from Heine which he and Edith had
often read together, came into his head. It
was the story of the youth who goes to the
Madonna at Kevlar and brings her as a votive
offering a heart of wax, that she may heal him
of his love and his sorrow.
"I bring this waxen image,
The image of my heart,
Heal thou my bitter sorrow,
And cure my deadly smart!"[4]
[4] Translation, from "Exotics. By J. F. C. & C. L."
Then came the thought that for him, too, as
for the poor youth of Cologne, there was healing
only in death. And still in this moment he
was so near Edith, should see her perhaps, and
the joy at this was stronger than all else,
stronger even than death. So he sat down
beside the steps of the mansion opposite, where
there was some shelter from the wind, and
waited patiently till Edith should close her win-
dow. He was cold, perhaps, but, if so, he hardly
knew it, for the near joy of seeing her throbbed
warmly in his veins. Ah, there--the blinds
were thrown open; Edith, in all the lithe
magnificence of her wonderful form, stood out clear
and beautiful against the light within; she
pushed up the lower window in order to reach
the upper one, and for a moment leaned out
over the sill.
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