"There is no reason, if I am no more to you than others."
"More? What does that imply? Oh! you mean because we knew each other so early in life, because we were friends when we were both young? But what does that signify? What is youthful friendship? And do we remain the same? You have done so perhaps, at least in the principal thing, but I certainly have not; I resemble the Cecilia of those days as little as--as reality resembles our dreams; and besides--I am married; a wife needs no friend, has no friend, if she loves her husband, and if she does not--"
"Let us suppose the latter case," said Gotthold, as Cecilia suddenly paused.
"The case is not so simple as it seems," she answered, examining the stitches in her sewing; "yes, many cases may be imagined. For instance, it is very probable that he loves her, and even a woman of very little nobility of character is rarely insensible to and ungrateful for true love; but granted that he does not love her, loves her no longer, perhaps never has loved her--well, then everything will depend upon how the wife is constituted. Perhaps she is not proud, and therefore not ashamed to confess her unhappiness to a friend, who might then venture to become her lover; or if she is proud, she will do--I know not what, but certainly she would conceal herself in the deepest chasm in the earth, rather than give way and say, no matter to whom, I am unhappy!"
"And if that is not necessary, if her misery is written on her brow, looks from her eyes, speaks in every tone of her voice?"
Something flitted over Cecilia's face like the shadow of a cloud; but she smoothed her work with special care, as she answered in a passionless, almost monotonous voice:
"Who can say that? Who is so wise that he can read upon the brow of any human being the thoughts that are passing within, without ever deceiving himself or making another's face the mirror of his own beloved vanity? But we have fallen into a very disagreeable conversation. Tell me, instead, where you are going when you leave here, and where you expect to live in future? You will not return to Italy? It seems to me you told me so a short time ago."
"Thanks for your interest in me," replied Gotthold, with trembling lips; "but I have made no definite plans as yet. When I left Rome, it was certainly with the desire to remain here in the North, at least for some time, and try whether home could ever become home again to me; but the attempt will probably not succeed, nay, I think has already failed."
"It seems to me that this is rather too soon to decide such a question," said Cecilia; "but the matter is probably of importance only to us; you fortunate artists have your home in your art, and you take that with you wherever you turn your steps."
"And yet, I think, we can have our art only at home," replied Gotthold.