“Why superfluous?”
“Because you are perfectly convinced on the subject—and probably have had the very best evidence to convince you.”
“I will be more frank with you than you are with me,” said Deronda, still heated by Hans’ show of temper, and yet sorry for him. “I have never had the slightest evidence that I should succeed myself. In fact, I have very little hope.”
Hans looked round hastily at his friend, but immediately turned to his picture again.
“And in our present situation,” said Deronda, hurt by the idea that Hans suspected him of insincerity, and giving an offended emphasis to his words, “I don’t see how I can deliberately make known my feeling to her. If she could not return it, I should have embittered her best comfort; for neither she nor I can be parted from her brother, and we should have to meet continually. If I were to cause her that sort of pain by an unwilling betrayal of my feeling, I should be no better than a mischievous animal.”
“I don’t know that I have ever betrayed my feeling to her,” said Hans, as if he were vindicating himself.
“You mean that we are on a level, then; you have no reason to envy me.”
“Oh, not the slightest,” said Hans, with bitter irony. “You have measured my conceit and know that it out-tops all your advantages.”
“I am a nuisance to you, Meyrick. I am sorry, but I can’t help it,” said Deronda, rising. “After what passed between us before, I wished to have this explanation; and I don’t see that any pretensions of mine have made a real difference to you. They are not likely to make any pleasant difference to myself under present circumstances. Now the father is there—did you know that the father is there?”
“Yes. If he were not a Jew I would permit myself to damn him—with faint praise, I mean,” said Hans, but with no smile.