Karl was in the
shadow of the porch, and could see her perfectly, without much danger of
being discovered by her; so he sat and watched her. She raised her head
for a moment, and the rose-flush of the west fell over it, shining on the
tears with which it was wet, and giving the whole a bloom which did not
belong to it, for it was always pale, and now pale as death. It was indeed
the face of Lilith, the most celebrated beauty of Prague.
"Again she buried her face in her hands; and Karl sat with a strange
feeling of helplessness, which grew as he sat; and the longing to help her
whom he could not help, drew his heart towards her with a trembling
reverence which was quite new to him. She wept on. The western roses
withered slowly away, and the clouds blended with the sky, and the stars
gathered like drops of glory sinking through the vault of night, and the
trees about the churchyard grew black, and Lilith almost vanished in the
wide darkness. At length she lifted her head, and seeing the night around
her, gave a little broken cry of dismay.
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