“No matter, no matter,” she said, embracing her, “I decline war, dear friend, and I really thank you, with all my heart, for showing me your engagement-ring. Keep the bracelet, I beg of you; be assured of my thanks and my friendship.”
Olga burst into tears.
“Margaret,” she said, “if you betray me I am ruined. I swore to keep my engagement secret for eight days; and if the baron suspects that I have failed in my word—and he will, if you show how glad you are—he will break it off, and begin to think of you again—especially since he has never ceased to do so.”
“And that is what you are crying for? Why then, you love him, do you not? Well, my dear friend, however strange your preference seems to me, it sets you right, in my opinion. I thought that you were merely ambitious. If you love, I love you—and I am sorry for you!”
“Ah!” said Olga, “you are sorry for me, are you not?”
Drawing Margaret to the end of the gallery, she sobbed upon her shoulder, and could scarcely keep from breaking out into violent hysterical cries. Margaret carried her away to her own room, where, after a time, she quieted her.
“There, I am well again now,” said Olga, rising; “I have had two or three such attacks since yesterday, but this is the last; I feel it. I have made up my mind; I intend to be calm. I can trust you, and I will not be weak, I will not be afraid, I will not suffer any longer.”
She took the ring from her pocket, put it on her finger, and turned pale again as she gazed upon it, with a melancholy expression. Then, taking it off, she said:
“I must not wear it yet.”
And she replaced it in the box, and in her pocket.