There was an interval, no doubt, when the horror of some calamity, which I need not shape out in my conjectures, threw Donatello into a stupor of misery.

Connected with the first shock there was an intolerable pain and shuddering repugnance attaching themselves to all the circumstances and surroundings of the event that so terribly affected him.

Was his dearest friend involved within the horror of that moment?
He would shrink from her as he shrank most of all from himself.
But as his mind roused itself,--as it rose to a higher life than he had hitherto experienced,--whatever had been true and permanent within him revived by the selfsame impulse.

So has it been with his love." "But, surely," said Miriam, "he knows that I am here! Why, then, except that I am odious to him, does he not bid me welcome ?" "He is, I believe, aware of your presence here," answered the sculptor.
"Your song, a night or two ago, must have revealed it to him, and, in truth, I had fancied that there was already a consciousness of it in his mind.

But, the more passionately he longs for your society, the more religiously he deems himself bound to avoid it.