It was a never-before-seen
form, but surrounded by a wonderfully bright halo, enveloped in rich,
glittering garments, such as she had never before seen. It was a
strange, unknown face, but of a sublime, heroic beauty, proud and noble,
bold and mild.
"That is he!" she breathlessly and sadly murmured--"yes, that is he!
That is a man and a hero! Ah, I shall die under his glance!"
He still continued to approach, and with every forward step he made
she felt her heart contract with anxiety, admiration, and a feverish
sadness.
Now he stood on the threshold of the boudoir--his glance fell upon her.
And she? She lay, or rather half knelt upon the divan, motionless, pale
as a marble statue, with that divine smile which we admire in ancient
sculpture.
Touching was she to behold, white and delicate as a lily, so humble and
devoted, so shelter-needing and love-imploring!
But Count Orloff felt neither sympathy nor compassion. He saw only that
she was beautiful as an angel, an admirable woman, whom he desired to
possess!
Proud as a king, and at the same time very reverential and submissive,
he approached and sank upon his knee before the divan upon which she
reclined in trembling yet blissful sadness.
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