She made a gesture with her hands which was more eloquent than words.
"Perhaps—perhaps there is someone else? Someone of the other women here?" he suggested, moodily.
"Yes, there is someone else," she said, with the same calm decision. "No, it is not one of the women here; it is a girl in the place; a farmer's daughter, I think. It is only a liaison, a vulgar intrigue—"
He uttered an exclamation.
"And yet that doesn't cure you!"
She shook her head and smiled.
"No; my case is incurable. Father, if he were engaged to anyone of the women here, to someone his equal, I should still love him and want him; yes, and move heaven and earth to get him. But this is only a flirtation with some country girl—she meets him on the hill-side by the river—anywhere. I have seen them, at a distance, once or twice. She is of no importance. She has caught his fancy, and will soon fail to hold it."
She waved her hand as if she were moving the obstacle aside. Her father stared at her in a kind of stupefaction.
"My girl, don't you know what you are asking for? A life of wretchedness and misery; the hell of being married to a man who doesn't love you."
She laughed and drew herself up, her eyes flashing, a warm glow on her cheeks.