"I might have told you everything, you know," Bertha went on to say; "indeed I might say that I wished to tell you before I actually went to Vienna … but—just fancy, isn't it strange? I did not venture to do so."
"Moreover at that time, too, there probably had not been anything to tell," said Frau Rupius, without looking at Bertha.
Bertha was amazed. How clever that woman was! She could see into everybody's thoughts!
"No, at that time there had not been anything to tell," she repeated, gazing at Frau Rupius with a kind of reverence. "Just think—you will probably find it hard to believe what I am going to tell you now, but I should feel a liar if I kept it secret."
"Well?"
Bertha had sat down on a seat beside Frau Rupius, and she spoke in a lower tone, for the vestibule door was standing open.
"I wanted to tell you this, Anna: that I do not in the least feel that I have done anything wicked, not even anything immoral."
"It wouldn't be a very clever thing, either, if you had."
"Yes, you are quite right…. What I really meant to say was rather that it seems to me as though I had done something quite good, as if I had done something outstanding. Yes, Frau Rupius, the fact of the matter is, I have been proud of myself ever since."
"Well, there is probably no reason for that either," said Frau Rupius, as if lost in thought, stroking Bertha's hand, which lay upon the table.