The worthy alchymist saw nothing of all this. His mind could admit of
no idea that was not connected with the discovery of the grand
arcanum, and he supposed his youthful coadjutor equally devoted. He
was a mere child as to human nature; and, as to the passion of love,
whatever he might once have felt of it, he had long since forgotten
that there was such an idle passion in existence. But, while he
dreamed, the silent amour went on. The very quiet and seclusion of the
place were favourable to the growth of romantic passion. The opening
bud of love was able to put forth leaf by leaf, without an adverse
wind to check its growth. There was neither officious friendship to
chill by its advice, nor insidious envy to wither by its sneers, nor
an observing world to look on and stare it out of countenance. There
was neither declaration, nor vow, nor any other form of Cupid's
canting school. Their hearts mingled together, and understood each
other without the aid of language. They lapsed into the full current
of affection, unconscious of its depth, and thoughtless of the rocks
that might lurk beneath its surface. Happy lovers! who wanted nothing
to make their felicity complete, but the discovery of the
philosopher's stone!
At length, Antonio's health was sufficiently restored to enable him to
return to his lodgings in Granada.
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