'I will go first and announce you. Please to wait here.'
A voice from within, which he recognised as Elena's, called,
'Christina!'
At the sound of her voice coming thus unexpectedly, Andrea began to
tremble so violently that he thought to himself--'I am sure I am going
to faint.' He had a dim presentiment of some more than mortal happiness
in store for him which should exceed his utmost expectations, his
wildest dreams--almost beyond his powers to support. She was there--on
the other side of that door. All perception of reality deserted him. It
seemed to him that he had already imagined--in some picture, some
poem--a similar adventure, under the self-same circumstances, with these
identical surroundings and enveloped in the same mystery, but of which
_another_--some fiction of his own brain--was the hero. And now, by some
strange trick of the imagination, the fictitious was confounded with the
real, causing him an indescribable sense of confusion and bewilderment.
On each of the pieces of tapestry was a large symbolical figure--Silence
and Slumber--two Genii, tall and slender, which might have been designed
by Primaticcio of Bologna, guarding the door. And he--he himself--stood
before the door waiting, and on the other side of it was his divine
lady. He almost thought he could hear her breathe.
At last Mademoiselle returned.
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