when the prayer blesses her, when the myrtle wreath crowns her; when the heart trembles, when the eyes are fixed on the ground, when she hides in herself, when she belongs other than to the world in order wholly to belong to it; when her bosom swells, when the living form sighs, when the voice falters, when the tear quivers before the riddle is explained, when the torch is lighted, when the bridegroom waits - then the moment has come. Soon it will be too late.