The light that illumined his yellow, wrinkled face made me cry out:—
"All the world will bless you! All women will be grateful as I am grateful—"
"Ach!" he snapped with a sudden change of countenance. "I shall be von more name and date to make harter t'e student's lessons and longer t'e tables—t'at is gratitude! Vit' t'e vorld we haf at present no concern. For t'is, indeed, you bless me—t'at I am not a quack to make public an incomplete discofery, for ot'er quacks to do mischief. You are glad t'at it is vit' you alone I concern myself. But you are not grateful; you are happy because I say t'at you shall be yet more beautiful; t'at is not gratitude. You might—"
At the eager shrillness of his voice I drew a step away.
"Indeed I'm grateful, whether you believe it or not!" I cried. "You think all women so selfish! Of course I'm glad that I alone am in the secret, but you proposed it yourself, and I rejoice as much as you do that some day—by and by—other women will be happy as I am happy—"
"Yes—by and by! You emphasize t'at," he snapped mockingly, but then he recovered himself and his queer new deference. "And you haf t'e right; I vish you to rechoice in your own lofeliness. Ve haf engaged toget'er in t'is great vork, and it is vell t'at we bot' haf our revards—I t'at I aggomblish somet'ing for t'e benefit of my kind, and you—since vomen cannot lofe t'eir kind, but only intifiduals—you haf t'e happy lofe t'at is necessary to a voman."
His eyes rested on my ring.
I couldn't tell him—proud as I am of it—that John had loved me before I ever heard of the Bacillus. But I could punish his gibes.
"Oh, by the way—I'm not coming to-morrow," I said. "My Aunt is to give a tea."
Strange to see him struggle with his disappointment like a grieving child! But he bravely rallied.