There was indeed in his face and air that from which the painter of a seraph might not have disdained to copy: something resembling the vision of an angel in the dark eyes that swam with tears, in which emotion had so little of mortal dross; in the youthful and soft cheeks, which the earnestness of divine thought had refined by a pale but transparent hue; in the high and unclouded forehead, over which the hair, parted in the centre, fell in long and wavelike curls; and in the lips, silent, yet moving with internal prayer, which seemed the more fervent, because unheard.
I did not interrupt him in the prayer, which my soul felt, though my ear caught it not, was for me.

But when he had ceased, and turned towards me, I clasped him to my breast.

"My brother," I said, "we shall part, it is true, but not till our hearts have annihilated the space that was between them; not till we have felt that the love of brotherhood can pass the love of woman.

Whatever await you, your devoted and holy mind will be, if not your shield from affliction, at least your balm for its wounds.

Remain here.