"Do you know," I resumed, "that we have been together now six months? The life we are leading together is not one to be laughed at. You are young, I also; if this kind of life should become distasteful to you, are you the woman to tell me of it? In truth, if it were so, I would confess it to you frankly. And why not? Is it a crime to love? If not, it is not a crime to love less or to cease to love at all. Would it be astonishing if at our age we should feel the need of change?"
She stopped me.
"At our age!" said she. "Are you addressing me? What comedy are you now playing, yourself?"
Blood mounted to my face. I seized her hand. "Sit down here," I said, "and listen to me."
"What is the use? It is not you who speak."
I felt ashamed of my own strategy and abandoned it.
"Listen to me," I repeated, "and come, I beg of you, sit down near me.
If you wish to remain silent yourself, at least hear what I have to say."
"I am listening, what have you to say to me?"
"If some one should say to me: 'You are a coward!' I, who am twenty-two years of age and have fought on the field of honor, would throw the taunt back in the teeth of my accuser. Have I not within me the consciousness of what I am? It would be necessary for me to meet my accuser on the field, and play my life against his; why? In order to prove that I am not a coward; otherwise the world would believe it. That single word demands that reply every time it is spoken, and it matters not by whom."
"It is true; what is your meaning?"