“Wherefore?” repeated Friedemann, with a burst of passionate grief.
“I honored your mind—your genius—your heart.”
“And you loved me not?”
“You will madden me with these questions!”
“And you loved me not?”
“I could not see you suffer—I wished to restore your peace—to have you acquiesce—”
“All that you gave without love, I despise! If you do love me, how can you bear to think of becoming the wife of another?”
“Ah! you know well, my station—the will of my uncle—”
“And my happiness, my peace is nothing to you?”
“Why can you not be calm—happy, when you know that my affection is still yours—that I can never love another!”