“Do not accuse me of being unable to see how you love her. But I cannot do what you ask me. How would it be possible? You must write to her—persuade her to see you.”
“And I thought that you were my friend.”
He had stopped on the avenue and was gazing at her reproachfully.
“I am your friend,” she said, “and therefore I cannot do this. If you were to meet her and hear her talk as I heard her to-day you would turn away from her forever. I know that.”
“Turn from her—I—I—turn from her—her?” he cried. “Oh, let me have the chance—you will give me the chance?”
She shook her head.
“Then what am I to do?” he said. “Would you counsel me to remain passive—to allow her to marry that man whom she detests and to send her a wedding present? A diamond star would be a nice present, wouldn’t it? or a wheat sheaf—I saw one the other day—set with pearls and diamonds?”
“Oh, you are talking now just as she talked—so wildly—so wickedly. Cannot you see that just at this moment you are both beyond the control of reason? You say things to me now that you do not mean—she did the same. If you were to meet now you would say things to her—she would say things to you—you would part from her forever.”
“I would be calm. I would remember that everything depended on my being calm.”
“Ah, you think so. But you cannot be calm even to me. And you did not see her as I saw her just now.”