head, which caused the great unsteadiness of the floor of our room.

* * * * *

During this crazy scene, in which plates learned to dance and glasses to
fly, there sat opposite me two youths, beautiful and pale as statues,
one resembling Adonis, the other Apollo. The faint rosy hue which the
wine spread over their cheeks was scarcely noticeable. They gazed on
each other with infinite affection, as if the one could read in the eyes
of the other, and in those eyes there was a light as though drops of
light had fallen therein from the cup of burning love, which an angel on
high bears from one star to the other. They conversed softly with
earnest trembling voices, and narrated sad stories, through all of which
ran a tone of strange sorrow. "Lora is dead now too!" said one, and,
sighing, proceeded to tell of a maiden of Halle who had loved a student,
and who, when the latter left Halle, spoke no more to any one, ate but
little, wept day and night, gazing over on the canary-bird which her
lover had given her. "The bird died, and Lora did not long survive it,"
was the conclusion, and both the youths sighed as though their hearts
would break. Finally the other said, "My soul is sorrowful; come forth
with me into the dark night! Let me inhale the breath of the clouds and
the moon-rays. Companion of my sorrow! I love thee; thy words are
musical, like the rustling of reeds and the flow of rivulets; they
reëcho in my breast, but my soul is sad!"

Both of the young men arose. One threw his arm around the neck of the
other, and thus they left the noisy room. I followed, and saw them enter
a dark chamber, where the one by mistake, instead of the window, threw
open the door of a large wardrobe, and both, standing before it with
outstretched arms, expressing poetic rapture, spoke alternately. "Ye