I no longer remember where I stopped in my narrative: I only know it was
two in the morning when I went to bed; and if you had been with me,
that I might have talked instead of writing to you, I should, in all
probability, have kept you up till daylight.
I think I have not yet related what happened as we rode home from
the ball, nor have I time to tell you now. It was a most magnificent
sunrise: the whole country was refreshed, and the rain fell drop by
drop from the trees in the forest. Our companions were asleep. Charlotte
asked me if I did not wish to sleep also, and begged of me not to make
any ceremony on her account. Looking steadfastly at her, I answered, "As
long as I see those eyes open, there is no fear of my falling asleep."
We both continued awake till we reached her door. The maid opened it
softly, and assured her, in answer to her inquiries, that her father and
the children were well, and still sleeping. I left her asking permission
to visit her in the course of the day. She consented, and I went, and,
since that time, sun, moon, and stars may pursue their course: I know
not whether it is day or night; the whole world is nothing to me.