He went furiously to the balcony, and, turning his back upon the room, looked down into the street, where the busy movement of the Corso was visible. For a few minutes Beatrice's passionate sobs were heard in the saloon; then all was still, and immediately after she placed a hand on his shoulder, as he stood at the window.
"Rinaldo!"
Half-reluctantly he turned round. His glance met Beatrice's glowing dark eye; a tear still stood in it, but it was no longer a tear of anger, and her voice, just now so excited, had a soft, melting ring in it.
"You say I am a mistress in the art of hating. Only in hating, Rinaldo? You have often enough experienced the contrary."
Reinhold now turned completely to her, and returned from the balcony.
"I know that you can love," replied he, more mildly, "love warmly and wholly. But you can also torment with this love; that I have to feel every day."
"And you would wish to flee this torment, at least for a time?"
A deep reproach sounded in her voice. Almbach made an impatient movement.
"I seek peace, Beatrice," said he, "and that I do not find at all near you. You can only breathe in constant heat and excitement, both are your conditions of life, and you drag your entire surroundings with you in the everlasting fire of your nature. I--am tired."
"Of society or of me?" asked Beatrice, with freshly rising fury.