This breeze is usually stedfast, and its promise of a bland and cloudless evening, may be trusted.

The moon will rise at eleven, and at that hour, we shall wind along this bank.

Possibly that hour may decide my fate.

If suitable encouragement be given, Pleyel will reveal his soul to me; and I, ere I reach this threshold, will be made the happiest of beings.

And is this good to be mine?
Add wings to thy speed, sweet evening; and thou, moon, I charge thee, shroud thy beams at the moment when my Pleyel whispers love.