The curtain had fallen across his shoulders, so that he had to push his way beneath it.

Now he would have been in absolute darkness had there not been shining from the depths of the distance, incredibly far away, as if awakened by his own gaze, the faintest possible illumination to show him the way.

No more than three paces forward, and eager arms enfolded him.

Letting the sword slip from his hand, the cloak from his shoulders, he gave himself up to his bliss.
From Marcolina's sigh of surrender, from the tears of happiness which he kissed from her cheeks, from the ever-renewed warmth with which she received his caresses, he felt sure that she shared his rapture; and to him this rapture seemed more intense than he had ever experienced, seemed to possess a new and strange quality.

Pleasure became worship; passion was transfused with an intense consciousness.