A crimson flush extended to her brow; the unconcern died out of her eyes.
“I do not understand,” she answered, slowly.
“When a woman says ‘I do not understand,’ she means ‘I wish to forget’.”
Her wide-open glance flashed ominously to his; she clasped and unclasped her fingers.
“Forget what?” she said, coldly.
“Nameless nothings!” he returned. “A smile––a glance––nothing to you, perhaps, but”––the set expression of his face giving way to abrupt passion!––“everything to me! Perhaps I had not meant to say this, but it seems as though the words must come out to-night. 340 It may be”––his voice vibrating with strange earnestness––“for once I want to be myself. For weeks we have been––friends––and then suddenly you begin to treat me––how? As though I no longer existed! Why did you deceive me––let me drift on? Because I was mute, did you think I was blind? Why did I join the strollers––the land baron accused me of following you across the country. He was right; I was following you. I would not confess it to myself before. But I confess it now! It was a fool’s paradise,” he ended, bitterly.
She shrank back before his vehement words; something within her appeared violated; as though his plea had penetrated the sanctity of her reserve.
“Would it not be well to say nothing about deception?” she replied, and her dark eyes swept his face. Then, turning from him abruptly, she stepped to the window, and, drawing aside the lace curtains mechanically, looked out.
The city below was yet teeming with life, lights gleaming everywhere and shadowy figures passing. Suddenly out of the darkness came a company of soldiers who had just landed, marching through the streets toward the camping ground and singing as they went.
The chorus, like a mighty breath of patriotism, filled her heart to overflowing. It seemed as though she had heard it for the first time; had never before felt its potency. All the tragedy of war swept before her; all that inspiring, strange affection for country, kith and kin, suddenly exalted her.