The time that followed now I can never describe. Our meetings, short though they were, were so filled with embarrassed happiness, with timid tenderness, that no colour, no brush, no pen, could ever do them full justice.
But there were hours of quite a different nature too. Hours when strange moods got hold of us—hours when he pulled himself up, just as if to shake off something—hours when his eyes lost their tranquil light, and looked dark and gloomy—hours when the beast was roused within him. Then I felt and understood vaguely the strength of his passion, and grew almost afraid of him. If he forgot his vow for a single moment only, then woe to our friendship and woe to me!
Chapter XIII
A whole year passed in this way, and I believe without doubt that I was truly happy. A dull sense of fear, however, had gradually got hold of me. No more did I sit down to my books when the children lay asleep, as my habit had been, but sat crouched in a corner, brooding over thoughts that would be ignored no longer.
"What would be the end of it all?"
I shuddered when I remembered the strange, sad looks he gave me sometimes. Would it be possible to carry our friendship unsullied through the flames of passion? And then the question rose again, which I had believed to have silenced for ever, with many a beautiful phrase—the question of all Philistines!