Hertha, with parted lips and dilated eyes, had raised her hands as if to ward off the blow that was about to fall on her.
"For goodness' sake, calm yourself!" cried Meta, stroking her face with both hands. "It was only gossip. Of course, it's not true, and no one believes it now."
"Why is it not true?"
"Because, if it were, Ulrich Kletzingk, who is his bosom friend and knows all about him, would not have married her."
"But if he hadn't known?"
"Then Leo would have confessed it to him before the marriage."
"But, suppose he had not confessed?"
"He would have been absolutely obliged to do it. If he hadn't, Leo would have behaved shabbily to his friend."
Hertha scarcely comprehended, but one thing was clear, and flamed like a torch of certainty through all this night of riddles: "They had been in love ... they loved each other still ... they would always love each other."
After this, she was indifferent to what she and Meta talked about. A yellow mist lay before her eyes, and Meta's voice sounded as if it came from a long way off, and fell on her ear without meaning. She answered, not knowing what she answered.