As soon as the the holy flame had pronounced its last words, the holy round 
turned again on itself, then another joined it in the round; but 
it had not finished yet a turn, that another flame locked it up in its circle of fire, 
and put at unison its song and its movement, a song accompanied by suaves trumpets,
more beautiful than the song of the Muses and the Sirens. 

These eternal roses turned around us like two garlands, 
those from the outside answering to those of the inside. 
From the interior arch arise that from the outside, such as the consent of the lover 
that love consumes. When the dance and the great joy of the song and of the blaze 
these merry lights and lovers reflected to each other, at the same time and of the same heart, 
had stopped, as the  hearts agitated by the orgasm must palpitate, and slacken 
at the same time, from the heart of one of the new lights rose a voice, which 
made me turn towards it, as the needle of the compass towards the magnetic north; 
it started as follows: 

"Oh! where is  Romeo? did you see him today? 

I am well afraid he had lost his way. I saw him, however, who walked in the forest of sycamores, 
and I direct myself towards him, but at my sight, he concealed himself in the depths of the forest. 
It is since many mornings that one saw him sprinkling with his tears, the fresh dew of the morning 
and, through his breaths, transform the clouds into worrying shadows.
But, as soon as the vivifying sun draws the curtains of Dawn, he flees the light at once, 
he engulfed himself in his bed and he manufactures artificial happinesses for himself. 
Ah! this somber mood will be fatal to him, 
if by my good councels he does not dissipate its cause. 
But, although having insisted with his friends, I could not have known the cause; 
alas, he is the only one responsible for his passions, he entrusts only to his dreams, 
he is secret, impenetrable, as closed as the petals of a flower which only opens out 
its beauties to the sun. If only we could know from where its pains comes to him, 
we would be as hastened to cure them as to recognize them."

 "If you are not Romeo, who then are you, you who transport like that, the sadness of Romeo?" 

"Know that I am not..." 

And he thus continued without giving me the chance to say anything more: 
"Oh! how sad you seem to be, and how the hours seem to you, long to wait! 
Alas! is it necessary for love, apparently so soft, to be so tyrannical and so cruel to you at proof! 
Oh, tumultuous  love! oh, loving envy! oh all, created from nothing! oh heavy lightness, serious vanity! 
Inform chaos of ravishing visions! sleep always waked up which is not what it is! 
Here is the love that I feel in you and I do not sense only love in there. 
Love is only a smoke of breaths; it is a flame which sparks to the eyes of the lovers, 
or it is a sea alimented by their tears. What then is still really love?
 It is the most reasonable madness, a suffocating bitterness and a vivifying softness!" 

"Oh! you who speak like this, it is not Romeo whom you see, he is elsewhere, 
and if he loves so much, know that I love as much as he loves, and I say it with my sobs! 
The darts of Cupid has too cruelly wounded me so that I can spring on his light wings; 
enchaines as I am, I could not raise myself above an immutable pain,
I succumb under the love which crushes me. 
Good-bye, you could not teach me how to forget."

Then, the voice of a chorus of yound girls, coming from the interior of the luminous garland,
  was made heard, hardly covering the words of the beautiful unknown and mine:
 "If you like her thus, your arrows, like those of Cupid, miss their target 
because you cannot reach her; she is like Diana, and she is armed 
with a chastity proof againt all, she lives sheltered of the childish artifices of Love, 
she does not let herself besiege by words of love, she concealed herself to the shock of provoking glances, 
and she closes her bosom to the lit candle which would seduce even a saint. 
Oh! she is very rich in beauty, but all these beautiful treasures must die with her! 
She swore to live always pure, and this promise deprives you forever from her. 
When hungering such a beauty by its rigours, she disinherits all the posterity of it. 
She is too beautiful, too wise, too wisely beautiful, because she deserves heaven
by making your despair. She swore to never love, and this oath kills you 
by letting you live, since it is while living that you listen to us."(1) 

And the voice, which was accompanied by the song of the chorus, continued as follows: 
"Oh! worthy  visitor! I see very well to your air, that queen Mab has undoubtedly visited you this night. 
If you do not know her, she is the midwise fairy; 
she is not larger than an alliance at the index of a chip. 
It is so that she gallop every night, in the brains of the lovers 
who then dream of love; on the knees of the courtisans who dream at once of courtisanry; 
on the lips of the ladies which thus dream to be well seduces! 
Mab often leaves, on your lips, some blisters, irritated that she is, 
by the kisses dispensed to your Beauty. Sometimes she gallop on the nose of a coaxer, 
and quickly she dreams that she engulfed herself in her belly; sometimes she comes, 
with her filthy nostril, tickle your sleeping tail; 
It is this same Mab which, at night, tears in the silvery fleece of your beauty, 
 hymenas to scramble, for your misfortune, all the intrigues of the male in heat. 
When your mistress is lying on her back, it is her who, like a stryge, 
embraced her, and thus accustoms her to support the weight of the lover you are."(1) 

"Peace, peace, but what then, are you speaking about?"
 I answered him, with an irritated voice.

 "I speak to you about your dreams, which are like the dreams of the children who are delirious, 
they generate, in your spirit, hallucinations; they are as insubstantial as the air; 
they are more variable than the wind which sweeps the nordic plains; 
they escape at midday like puffs from anger, with their dew full of moisture!" (1)

I stopped his words, having seen a shadow in the night: 
"Who is this Lady, over there, whom I see, and who kisses the hand of this celestial horseman?" 

"Oh! this lovely Lady! she teaches the stars to illuminate the night of the male! 
Her beauty is suspended to her bed, like a rich jewel hanged at the ear of an Abyssinian girl! 
She is a Beauty too invaluable to be possessed, too exquisite 
to be supported by the earth! She appears in the middle of her companions, 
such as the snow dove in a troop of crows." (1)

"Did My heart has never loved as much before this moment? 
Because my eyes never have, until this evening, seen so much beauty. 
I conjure you, by the brilliant eyes of Juliet, by her high forefront
 and by her scarlet lip, by her delicate foot, her slender leg, her quivering thigh, 
and by the domains that enclosed around there, 
appear to me, lovely Lady, under your own shape! 

Are you not, Juliette? 

What light spouts out of this sun? But here she is, she is like the sun of the Orient! 
Rise, beautiful dawn, you are more beautiful than the jealous moon, 
which already languished and faded in pain, because you are no more his priestess. 

Here is thus my lady! Oh! here comes my love! But what does she say? 
Alas nothing, she is silent; but her glance shines as if she wanted to speak to me. 
But it is not to me that she is addressing, because the celestial horseman entreats her eyes 
to agree to resplendent in his eyes, until she gives herself to him. 

Ah! if the stars substitutes to her eyes, at the same time as her eyes to the stars, 
the only glare of her cheeks would fade away the clearness of the stars, like a torch  on daylight; 
and her eyes, from the top of the sky, would dart such a light through the arerial regions, 
that the birds would sing, believing that night does not exist any more.
 See how she presses her cheek on the hand of the celestial horseman! 
Oh! how can I be the glove of this hand, I would then touch the whiteness of her cheek!" 

"Love which render me so beautiful pushes  me to speak such a sweeheart to you, 
at the occasion of whom one speaks so well, here, of my real lover. 
It is appropriate that, where is one, the other also appears, so that, as they love me 
as much one and the other, their happiness together the same way is resplendent."

 This is how she addressed to me, and she said also: 
"Give up your name for that of Romeo; 
and, in place of your name, which is  not  part of you anymore, take me entirely ."

 Insane and delirious with love, I answered her: 
"I take you by the word! 
Call me only my love, and I will rename my name: from now on I will be your Romeo ". 

Then she added: 
"What man are you then, you who, hidden by the night, 
have just discovered my secrecy?" 

And I answered to her: 
"I could not say to you what is my name nor to indicate to you who I am. 
My name, very dear, is odious to myself, since it is, for you, that of another man: 
if I had pronounced it here, I would confound up to the syllables." 

"Tell me, how did you came here, and with what aim you are there? 
Consider from where you come and where you go: this place will be your death 
if the shadow of Jeanne knows I am here with you."

 "I came up to here on the light wings of love, and all that love can do, 
it can try it, so that death is not an obstacle for me. 
There are in your eyes more dangers than in that of a sword, 
and I will suffer any enmity only to taste to the softness of only one of your glances."

She approached, so that I could almost touch her and she says to me: 
"My love is as deep as the abyssals of the sea: the more I give you of my love, 
the more love it remains to me, because my love is infinite as much as the sea. 
Dear love, adieu, my time with you is counted to me! 
"Oh! celestial, celestial night! I am afraid, since it is night, 
that all this is only a dream, too deliciously intriguing to be real."(1)