"Now you speak sensibly. The sooner you begin to hate me the better.",
"But why should night produce melancholy?" says Nicholas, dreamily. "It is but a reflection of the greater light, after all. What does Richter call it? 'The great shadow and profile of day.' It is our own morbid fancies that make us dread it.",
To him, however, all is different; and the hour is fraught with a tremulous joy, and with a vague sweet longing that means love as yet untold..
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