He flew with long steps into the room in which, on that never-to-be- forgotten night, he had laid Selene on the couch, and even at the threshold he called her by her name. She started and laid aside the book out of which she was reading to her blind brother. He called a second time, beseechingly. Selene recognized him and asked calmly:
"Do you want me, or dame Hannah?"
"You, you!" he cried passionately. "Oh Selene, I pulled you out of the water, and since that night I have never ceased to think of you and I must die for love of you. Have your thoughts never, never met mine on the way to you? Are you still and always as cold, as passive as you were then when you belonged half to life and half to death? For months have I prowled round this house as the shade of a dead man haunts the spot where he had left all that was dear to him on earth, and I have never been able to tell you what I feel for you?" As he spoke the lad fell on the ground before her and tried to clasp her knees; but she said reproachfully:
"What does all this mean? Stand up and compose yourself."
"Oh! let me, let me—" he besought her. "Do not be so cold and so hard; have pity on me and do not reject me!"
"Stand up," repeated the girl. "I will certainly not reproach you—I owe you thanks on the contrary."
"Not thanks, but love—a little love is all I ask."
"I try to love all men," replied the girl, "and so I love you because you have shown me very much kindness."
"Selene, Selene!" he exclaimed in joyful triumph. He threw himself again at her feet and passionately seized her right hand; but hardly had he taken it in his own when Mary, scarlet with agitation, rushed into the room. In a husky voice, full of hatred and fury, she commanded him to leave the house at once, and when he attempted again to besiege her ear with entreaties she cried out:
"If you do not obey I will call the men in to help us, who are out there attending to the flowers. I ask you, will you obey or will you not?"