What, pray, is the last sentence but one but the very finest writing?
Suppose, for example, I had made Maximilian, as he stood by the side of Catherine, look up towards the clouds, and exclaim, in the words of the voluptuous Cornelius Nepos, 'Aenaoi nephelai 'Arthoomen phanerai Droseran phusin euageetoi, k.t.l.

[*] * Anglicised version of the author's original Greek text.
Or suppose, again, I had said, in a style still more popular:-- The Count advanced towards the maiden.

They both were mute for a while; and only the beating of her heart interrupted that thrilling and passionate silence.

Ah, what years of buried joys and fears, hopes and disappointments, arose from their graves in the far past, and in those brief moments flitted before the united ones! How sad was that delicious retrospect, and oh, how sweet! The tears that rolled down the cheek of each were bubbles from the choked and moss-grown wells of youth; the sigh that heaved each bosom had some lurking odours in it--memories of the fragrance of boyhood, echoes of the hymns of the young heart! Thus is it ever--for these blessed recollections the soul always has a place; and while crime perishes, and sorrow is forgotten, the beautiful alone is eternal.
"O golden legends, written in the skies!" mused De Galgenstein, "ye shine as ye did in the olden days! WE change, but YE speak ever the same language.

Gazing in your abysmal depths, the feeble ratioci--" ***** There, now, are six columns[*] of the best writing to be found in this or any other book.