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"
Ah
,
then
it
must
have
been
a
sylph
of
the
woods
that
glided
out
of
the
shadow
with
a
silken
train
behind
her
and
diamonds
in
her
hair
!
"
he
retorted
gaily
--
"
Tut
Geoffrey
!
--
do
n't
look
so
crestfallen
.
I
have
done
with
Mavis
Clare
,
and
she
with
me
.
I
have
not
been
making
love
to
her
--
I
have
simply
,
just
to
amuse
myself
,
tested
her
character
--
and
I
find
it
stronger
than
I
thought
.
The
combat
is
over
.
She
will
never
go
my
way
--
nor
,
I
fear
,
shall
I
ever
go
hers
!
"
"
Upon
my
word
,
Lucio
,
"
I
said
with
some
irritation
--
"
Your
disposition
seems
to
grow
more
and
more
erratic
and
singular
every
day
!
"
"
Does
it
not
!
"
he
answered
with
a
droll
affectation
of
interested
surprise
in
himself
--
"
I
am
a
curious
creature
altogether
!
Wealth
is
mine
and
I
care
not
a
jot
for
it
--
power
is
mine
and
I
loathe
its
responsibility
;
--
in
fact
I
would
rather
be
anything
but
what
I
am
!
Look
at
the
lights
of
your
'
home
,
sweet
home
'
Geoffrey
!
"
this
he
said
as
we
emerged
from
among
the
trees
on
to
the
moonlit
lawn
,
from
whence
could
be
seen
the
shining
of
the
electric
lamps
in
the
drawing-room
--
"
Lady
Sibyl
is
there
--
an
enchanting
and
perfect
woman
,
who
lives
but
to
welcome
you
to
her
embracing
arms
!
Fortunate
man
!
--
who
would
not
envy
you
!
Love
!
--
who
would
,
who
could
exist
without
it
--
save
me
!
Who
,
in
Europe
at
least
,
would
forego
the
delights
of
kissing
--
(
which
the
Japanese
by-the-by
consider
a
disgusting
habit
)
--
without
embraces
--
and
all
those
other
endearments
which
are
supposed
to
dignify
the
progress
of
true
love
!
One
never
tires
of
these
things
--
there
is
no
satiety
!
I
wish
I
could
love
somebody
!
"
"
So
you
can
,
if
you
like
,
"
--
I
said
,
with
a
little
uneasy
laugh
.
"
I
can
not
.
It
is
not
in
me
.
You
heard
me
tell
Mavis
Clare
as
much
.
I
have
it
in
my
power
to
make
other
people
fall
in
love
,
somewhat
after
the
dexterous
fashion
practised
by
match-making
mothers
--
but
for
myself
,
love
on
this
planet
is
too
low
a
thing
--
too
brief
in
duration
.
Last
night
,
in
a
dream
--
I
have
strange
dreams
at
times
--
I
saw
one
whom
possibly
I
could
love
--
but
she
was
a
Spirit
,
with
eyes
more
lustrous
than
the
morning
,
and
a
form
as
transparent
as
flame
;
--
she
could
sing
sweetly
,
and
I
watched
her
soaring
upward
,
and
listened
to
her
song
.
It
was
a
wild
song
,
and
to
many
mortal
ears
meaningless
--
it
was
something
like
this
...
"
and
his
rich
baritone
pealed
lusciously
forth
in
melodious
tune
--
Into
the
Light
,
Into
the
heart
of
the
fire
!
To
the
innermost
core
of
the
deathless
flame
