This is my idea of perfect life.

I want no other." "I thought you once told me that you found it lonely," I said.
"So I did," she answered, innocently, "but that was before you came.

Now I am not lonely any more, and it is perfect--perfect as the night." Just then the full moon rose above the elbow of the peak, and her rays stole far and wide down the misty valley, gleaming on the water, brooding on the plain, searching out the hidden places of the rocks, wrapping the fair form of nature as in a silver bridal veil through which her beauty shone mysteriously.
Stella looked down the terraced valley; she turned and looked up at the scarred face of the golden moon, and then she looked at me.

The beauty of the night was about her face, the scent of the night was on her hair, the mystery of the night shone in her shadowed eyes.

She looked at me, I looked on her, and all our hearts' love blossomed within us.