"Not too late to find the key to each other even now," he said. "Let us try to do it. Where others have failed, let us make a triumph. It is not our hearts which are at war, Marianne: our hearts mean well to each other. It is our temperaments which cause all the strife."
"We can make no triumph," she answered. "I have ruined your life, murdered your spirit, crushed out the best in you."
"It was a dream," he cried passionately. "Let it go the way of all dreams."
She shook her head.
"We must part to-morrow," she said, "and to-morrow will be the day of your re-birth."
"You stab me with your words," he said, as he passed, with head bowed, to the door.
"And you stab me with your dreams," she replied.
"We are both very unhappy," he said, as he paused on the threshold.
"Yes," she said, "very unhappy."