"Reinert!"
He half turned.
"What are your commands, gnädigste Gräfin?"
But the passionate woman's pride and self command had come to an end alike, she had never possessed more than a small share of either. Accustomed to give way to every outbreak of feeling, she sank down on the sofa and burst into a violent fit of weeping.
Eugen heard this, and stopped; he looked back, saw the beautiful tear-wet countenance turned towards him, and the next minute he was by her side.
"You are crying, Gräfin? May I speak to you? Antonie, will you condemn me unheard?"
This time no hard refusal followed his confidential tone. She looked up at him, fighting between love and anger, but Eugen saw that he might now dare to justify himself, and did not hesitate to do so.
"Yes, it is true I am bound, and this bond has become the curse of my life. When I returned to my native town some years ago, I saw once more a young girl, who had been a playfellow of mine. She was an orphan, scarcely beyond childhood, I thought I loved her, and her guardian urged me to declaration--so she became my fiancée. It was a step too hastily taken, but I wore the chain, and would have worn it patiently to the end. Then I came here and saw you, Antonie, and from that moment began the long fearful conflict between duty and passion. I must tear myself away from you, indeed, from every remembrance of you, if I would not succumb to this. Let my talent, let my whole future perish in that narrow confined sphere, let me know despair in an empty, joyless marriage--what is art to me, what, indeed, life itself, if I must renounce you!"
He had spoken with ever rising agitation, and Antonie had ceased weeping, anger had given place to compassion, and, as he concluded, every reproach had perished in the fear of losing the beloved one.
Countess Arnau was not the woman to recognise the claims of an outsider, where she alone would possess all.