[ She is as lost as many, but at least by now she knows where the cemetery is. It may not be a cheerful place, but it will draw him away from the statue that had him so mesmerized.

The frankness of his statement gets a curious draw of her brow, but instead of questioning such a statement, she muses allowed while gazing ahead: ]

By our own spirits are we deified. We poets in our youth begin in gladness; but thereof come in the end despondency and madness.