Helen had sufficient generosity to allow for this nerve-storm, to tell herself that it was not really Aline who spoke, but some tortured semblance of her.
“Well, do something for this friend of yours,” she said, “and don’t speak to me like that. I have no intention of turning my back on you, so long as you want my friendship. But you must be reasonable. I personally should not dream of giving a ball just now. People would be apt to say disagreeable things. And you must remember that they will say disagreeable things about you more readily than they would about me.”
“I do not see why. Has your husband given as generously as mine to English charities? There is a proof of his loyalty. And I am certainly going to do some war-work myself, now I am in town again.”
“It is not a question of money and war-work,” said Helen. “It is a question of your betraying your sympathies at every other sentence you speak. People won’t stand it: they will not come to your house if you talk to others as you have talked to me. Think: if I was to say to you about Germany what you have allowed yourself to say to me about England, you would very rightly deplore my ill manners. Now I hope you will take what I am saying in good part. I am speaking as a friend.”
Aline got up.
“I do not feel that you are being a friend to me,” she said. “You are not in sympathy with me. You find fault with all I say or do. It is not my fault if the English are not clever enough to make thermometers and dyes, and are cruel enough to read private letters and shoot the writer. Must I suddenly be convinced that the English are absolutely right and wise and perfect in all they do? I can’t do that: I see many faults in them. And it is not friendly of you not to sympathize with me.”
Helen got up also.
“I think you want to quarrel with me,” she said. “I should be very sorry if you did that. But just now I had better go away. Whenever you want to see me, I will always come. I am very sorry for you: I think you are in a cruel position and a difficult one. You must bring all your prudence and wisdom to bear on it.”
Aline hesitated a moment. At all times she considered any criticism of her own conduct that attributed to it the smallest lack in perfection, an unfriendly act, and now her nerves were utterly on edge.
“I’m sure I do not want to quarrel,” she said. “It is you who are quarrelling with me. I am the most generous woman, as Hermann often tells me, and the moment anyone is sorry I forgive her completely.”