You have guessed it: Helene. What shall
I say to you, my friend? I felt as if I were in a dream. Before me
stood the woman of whom I so often thought, since your visit more
frequently and more tenderly than ever, the personification of my
happiest moments, the love of my youth, transfigured by memory, for
whom I had longed twelve years, whom I had never expected to see again!
You know that I am not usually sentimental, but my eyes grew dim. I
could say only: 'Helene!' Then we had embraced and kissed each
other--through the veil--as if we were mad, in the public street, and
in the presence of the passers-by, who looked at us curiously. Helene
took my arm and drew me quickly forward in silence. A hack was
passing. Helene stopped it, sprang in hastily, and then asked: 'Can we
go to your home?' 'Certainly,' I cried. 'Then give the driver your
address.' Now we again sat hand clasped in hand, gazing into each
other's eyes, it was a moment full of mingled bliss and pain, such as I
have scarcely ever experienced. Then came another shower of kisses and
caresses, this time with the veil thrown back and even the hat laid
aside--the twelve years of course have not passed over her leaving no
trace, but she is still a beautiful, stylish woman--then followed
questions.
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