it is easiest to die, the pure and melancholy cold of autumn, the fragrance of a garden passed unknown in the night.

It became impossible for him to bear the sight of her eyes. If he remained she might speak, and he feared to hear her. A sense of a third presence, of another soul in the room overwhelmed him; he could not give it a name, and therefore he called it God.

She had not stirred when he slipped without a noise through the window and was instantly swallowed in the rushing of the wind and rain.