Page:The Trespasser, Lawrence, 1912.djvu/99

Rh looked very closely, glimmered dustily with a reflection of stars. She was fond of what scraps of German verse she knew. With French verse she had no sympathy; but Goethe and Heine and Uhland seemed to speak her language.

She liked Heine best of all:

As she lay in Siegmund’s arms again, and he was very still, dreaming she knew not what, fragments such as these flickered and were gone, like the gleam of a falling star over water. The night moved on imperceptibly across the sky. Unlike the day, it made no sound and gave no sign, but passed unseen, unfelt, over them. Till the moon was ready to step forth. Then the eastern sky blenched, and there was a small gathering of clouds round the opening gates:

Helena sang this to herself as the moon lifted herself slowly among the clouds. She found herself repeating them aloud in a forgetful singsong, as children do.

“What is it?” said Siegmund. They were both of