A slight aversion came over him at the thought of the boudoir, with its feminine ornaments and luxury, and its heavily perfumed air which half stifled him.
"Or perhaps you would rather stay here?" she asked, divining with quick instinct the ground of his hesitation.
"If it's all the same to you, I would rather."
She spread out her hands--a little gesture which was meant to convey that her only wish was to do what he wished.
There was a short silence. The late September sunshine filled the spacious room with warm-toned hues. Autumnally lazy flies buzzed and fell about on the window panes. No other sound disturbed the afternoon peacefulness, which seemed almost too sabbatical, too slumbrous, for this guilty pair.
Felicitas leaned back in a corner of the lounge, and with a sigh of deep content said, "Thank God."
"Why do you thank God?" he asked.
"That at last I have got you for once all to myself."
"You have got something to be proud of," he said ironically.
"Now, now, Leo!" she remonstrated, smiling. "You don't believe half you say. Sitting opposite each other like this it is quite unnecessary to draw the filmiest veil over our souls, or to hide a corner of them from one another. And that does one good, especially when one has had to go through life telling so many lies. Ah! I have so longed for truth. It is a kind of platonic affair, you see, that may be calmly permitted, because it is quite safe to lead to no harm--and this makes me quite happy. At least I need not try to appear better than I am to you.... As for you ... you sacrifice yourself for my sake, I know, by sitting like this with me, and you have struggled against it. But you hate me--hate me!"