She lifted her eyes to his—it cost her much to lift them. But she looked up as he had desired, and it was into his bared soul that she looked. There was an instant's silence; then he spoke.
"It is my whole life that goes with you," he said.
She stood gazing at him as though spellbound. Then she half-lifted her hands like a suppliant. She was as white as her gown. But the flood-gates were open now. Neither of them could stay the flood.
"Yes," he went on, "I love you. I've loved you from the first ... with all my soul, with all my life.... I love you with my soul.... Do you understand?... with my soul...."
He took a step towards her. They were both trembling now.
"If you would trust me ... if you would let me shield you ... with my whole life ... with my love ... with love that is worship ... worship...."
She found her voice at last, and cried out to him as if for mercy:
"No, Amaldi; no! Oh, I implore you!... Stop! It can't be ... it can't be!"
He wheeled where he stood so that his face was hidden from her. It was the instinctive movement of the body that seeks to hide the bared soul. A moment passed. Then she said brokenly:
"I must go now.... I must go back...."