"We women are quick to discern that sort of thing," said she; "before you men know exactly what it is you want, we feel it drawing near. It is like a warm draught of air blowing against us. Many of us don't know what it is to feel well except in such an air."
"If you noticed so much, why weren't you on your guard?" he asked sternly.
"What is the use of guarding against the decree of fate?" she said, piously clasping her hands.
"Why didn't you drive me away? Why did you allow me to come back?"
"Because I was so glad that you came back."
"Yes, yes ... forgive me ... you are right. It is I who ought to have known, and to have fled away, miles away. It was not your fault ... it was mine."
"Don't be so hard on yourself, Leo," she begged. "Things came as they were bound to come. We were both defenceless then. Do you still remember how, after the match was gone out, it was all dark in the arbour, and we were both quite, quite silent? For a long time I heard nothing but your breathing, short and hard.... You must tell me, Leo, what were you thinking about during those minutes?"
He would have cried out, "Leave me in peace with your questions," but only too vividly did the picture rise before his eyes of that sultry purple July night which was the beginning of all the mischief.
"What was I thinking about?" he murmured. "I don't know that I thought at all.... At least, I can't recall anything that I thought. But when we stood up and walked to the house, I remember that I asked myself, 'Why was it her shoulder felt so warm against my arm?' ... I put it down to the hot summer air.... But when I was in bed, I still felt your shoulder against my arm that I recollect perfectly to-day."
Felicitas looked at him, smiling. But in the midst of her smile she broke into convulsive weeping. She threw back her head, stretched herself out full length on the cushions, her whole body shaken by her violent sobs. One of her shoes slipped off and fell clattering on the floor.