"
"Shall I see you again soon?" said Angela, holding her by both hands
and looking at her anxiously.
"Yes, very soon, before the winter is over at any rate. You sweet,
calm, happy Angela! I wonder if anything could ever whip you in a
storm!"
"Would you like to see me in a stormy humour?" asked Angela,
smiling.
"No, not exactly;--but,--you are TOO quiet,--too secure--too
satisfied in your art and your surroundings; and you do not enter at
all into the passions and griefs of other people. You are absorbed
in your love and your work,--a beautiful existence! Only I hope the
gods will not wake you up some day!"
"I am not asleep," said Angela, "nor dreaming."
"Yes you are! You dream of beautiful things,--and the world is full
of ugly ones; you dream of love and constancy, and purity,--and the
world is full of spite, and hate, and bribery, and wickedness; you
have a world of your own,--but Angela, it is a glass world!--in
which only the exquisite colours of your own soul are reflected,
take care that the pretty globe does not break!--for if it does you
will never be able to put it together again! Adieu!"
"Adieu!" and Angela returned her loving embrace with equal
affection, "I will announce your departure to the Marquis Fontenelle
to-morrow.
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