As she spoke, the dazed and troubled sensation he had once previously experienced came upon him; he laid down the canvas he held and passed his hand across his forehead bewilderedly.
"Yes; very curious and fantastic. I've heard a great deal about the doctrine of reincarnation. I don't believe in it,--I can't believe in it! But if I could: if I could imagine I had ever met you in some bygone time, and you were like what you are at this moment, I should have loved you,--I MUST have loved you! You see I cannot leave the subject of love alone; and your re-incarnation idea gives my fancy something to work upon. So, beautiful Ziska, if your soul ever took the form of a flower, I must have been its companion blossom; if it ever paced the forest as a beast of prey, I must have been its mate; if it ever was human before, then I must have been its lover! Do you like such pretty follies? I will talk them by the hour."
Here he rose, and with a movement that was half fierce and half tender, he knelt beside her, taking her hands in his own.
"I love you, Ziska! I cannot help myself. I am drawn to you by some force stronger than my own will; but you need not be afraid of me--not yet! As I said, I can wait. I can endure the mingled torture and rapture of this sudden passion and make no sign, till my patience tires, and then--then I will win you if I die for it!"
He sprang up before she could speak a word in answer, and seizing his canvas again, exclaimed gayly: "Now for the hues of morning and evening combined, to paint the radiance of this wicked soul of love that so enthralls me! First, the raven-black of midnight for the hair,--the lustre of the coldest, brightest stars for eyes,--the blush-rose of early dawn for lips and cheeks. Ah! How shall I make a real beginning of this marvel?"
"It will be difficult, I fear," said Ziska slowly, with a faint, cold smile; "and still more difficult, perchance, will be the end!"