"Yes, and burned."
"Burned!"
From Hartmut's eyes flashed again the uncanny look which had startled even Egon and made him exclaim, "You look like a demon!"
The demon of hate and revenge had risen wildly against the man who had insulted him unto death and whom he therefore wished to hurt unto death, and yet he loved that man's wife as the son of Zalika alone could love--with wild, consuming passion; but that which he felt at this moment resembled hatred more than love.
"The poor leaf," he said with ill-concealed bitterness. "And so it had to suffer death in the flames--perhaps it deserved a better fate."
"You ought not to have sent it to me, then. I dare not and will not accept such poetry."
"You dare not, gracious lady? It is the homage of a poet which he lays at the feet of the woman who has been his from the beginning of time--and you will concede that to him also."
The words came but half-aloud from his lips, but so hot and passionate that Adelaide shuddered.
"You may pay homage like that to the women of your country, and in such words," she said. "A German woman does not understand it."
"But you have understood it, nevertheless," Hartmut burst forth, "and you also understood the doctrine of the intense ardor of my Arivana, which bears off the victory over all human laws. I saw it that evening when you turned your back apparently so coldly upon me, while all the others overwhelmed me with admiration. Do not deceive yourself, Ada. When the divine spark falls into two souls it flames up, in the cold north as well as the fervent south, and it already burns within us. In this breath of fire, will and will-power die the death; it smothers everything that has existed, and nothing remains but the holy, blazing flame which shines and makes happy, even if it destroys. You love me, Ada--I know it--do not attempt to deny it, and I--I love you boundlessly."