"That is hard," said the baron, "that is hard." He sank into a chair, leaned his arm on the back, and hid his face in his hand.
He rose again, walked up and down with long strides, crossing his arms on his breast, and said, as if speaking to himself: "Why should men complain, who love and are loved again, if they are cheated out of their hopes in one way or another? Why do they complain who love and are not loved again, but at least have the consolation of seeing that their grief is respected, and that others pity their suffering? No--to love, as a son of earth can love, with all his soul, with every drop of blood in his veins, and then to learn--not that he is not loved again--pshaw, that is nothing--but that he is looked upon as a pretender, a mere trifler--ha, ha, ha!--that is real bliss such as is dealt out to the poor devils who are undergoing torture."
"And if I cannot believe that you love me, who is to blame for it? Who arranged that scene in the garden of the village Serra di Falco? You or I?"
"What?" said the baron, stopping suddenly, "are you really such a novice in love that I must give you an explanation of that farce? Do you really think that I--who do not easily overlook anything--had not long since seen you behind the myrtle hedge before I sank at Hortense's feet and invoked the sun, which had set long ago, and the moon, that was not shining, and the stars, that knew better, to witness my burning passion? Could you take that for a moment in earnest?"
"What else?"
"It was an allegory. I wished to show you: See, that is what you will have left if you refuse me. You force me, who wish to worship a saint, to seek forgetfulness in the arms of a----. Melitta, Melitta, confess! You knew perfectly well it was a farce, but you found it convenient to take it in earnest. You wished to get rid of me, and even at the price of a misunderstanding!"
"And if that had been my wish--suppose it was my wish--is not the gentleman's duty to honor the lady's will, especially if he loves that lady?"
"And did I not honor it? Did I not leave that very night at a word, at a mere sign? Have I not wandered about for three years, like Ahasuerus, in foreign countries, and have I not, after my return, avoided every opportunity to meet you, because I apprehended a misfortune? Was it my will which made us meet at the ball at Barnewitz? Was it my desire which brought us here together? No, Melitta, you cannot complain of me. I have kept my love for you concealed in my bosom for long, long years,--for I have loved you ever since I could think; since I knew that the song of nightingales and sunshine and the roaring of the waves are precious things,--and if I was fool enough to forget for a moment how hopeless my passion was, I have paid dearly for my folly. I knew as a boy already, that you loved your horse and your dog better than me, and yet I checked my pride, and yet I humbled myself again and again before you, I who never yet in all my life could utter a request to human being!"
The baron continued his restless wandering through the room for a time, and after some silence he paused again before Melitta and said:
"I humbled myself still more. I saw the woman whom my soul yearned for as Dives did for a drop of water beloved by another; I saw her return him a love for which I would have thanked God on my knees a thousand times--and I did not stir! I tried my best not to hate the fortunate man, I met him with cordiality and took him by the hand, I tried to win his confidence and his affection, not to betray him and you, but because I felt that your happiness was dearer to me than everything else, and that the man whom you loved must either be loved by me too, or die by my hand!"