"Anna," continued her lover, in a tone of sadness, "so completely was my life identified with thine, that we seemed to have but one being—one existence: the love of thee was a part of myself. I have often thought if thou wert to die, I could never live without thee; but I have lost thee now by a separation more bitter than death. Thou knowest, Anna Rosenkrantz, how long, how well I loved thee, ere thou went to Frederick's court; and in truth I had many a bitter doubt if, at thy return, I would find thee the same artless and confiding girl that left me."
"And when I did return?" asked Anna, with a smile.
"Thou hadst forgotten to love me," replied Konrad clasping his hands.
"'Tis the way of the world," laughed Anna.
"The cruel and selfish world only."
"Be it so."
"Then thou lovest me no more?"
Anna played for a moment with the fringe of her stomacher, and then replied "No!"
The young man turned away with an unsteady step, and pressed his hand upon his forehead, as if he would crush some overpowering emotion. Anna lifted her little harp, and was about to retire. Konrad took her hand, but she abruptly withdrew it; a pang shot through his heart, and something of remorse ran through her own at the unkindness of the action.
He caught her skirt, and besought her to listen to him for the last time.