"Yes, but my heart is not free."
She blushed while he continued, his eyes on the grass:
"Only die passion that filled it and which was hopeless is purified and has become a cult, a religion."
She made a motion to stop him.
"Let me finish, Madame. I will never speak of these things again. And it does not only apply to me. I have often asked myself if a more human feeling could not exist side by side with that one, and satisfy the promise of happiness and fidelity with which I would reciprocate. Your religion does not keep you from loving. But would that be very loyal?"
Seeing her in this peaceful frame of mind, he had, in spite of himself, changed the meaning of his explanation. Elizabeth wished to get up and send him away, that he might understand that she considered as disloyalty that indirect confession which she had been obliged to hear. She remembered that he had been the first to alter her understanding of life, and remaining seated, she forgave him for the second time. But in her reply she expressed an authority which kept him at a distance, at the same time showing him the way:
"You must know yourself. This ... friendship must no longer occupy your attention. You will forget it by never again seeing her who inspired it."
"By never seeing her?"
"No. She will go away. Marry this young girl, who, as you just said, is not indifferent to you, whom you will love, whom you perhaps already love. But marry her without mental reservation."
"I cannot."