“You are frightened⁠ ⁠… but do you love me? If Erik were good-looking, would you love me, Christine?”

She rose in her turn, put her two trembling arms round the young man’s neck and said:

“Oh, my betrothed of a day, if I did not love you, I would not give you my lips! Take them, for the first time and the last.”

He kissed her lips; but the night that surrounded them was rent asunder, they fled as at the approach of a storm and their eyes, filled with dread of Erik, showed them, before they disappeared, high up above them, an immense night-bird that stared at them with its blazing eyes and seemed to cling to the string of Apollo’s lyre.