“Why, my dear young lady?”
“Because I did not remember that you, too, were a Charlotte,” murmured the malicious maid of honor, meekly.
Von Kalb laughed, but she was more subdued and thoughtful after this visit than usual. Her eyes often rested on Schiller with a peculiar, inquiring look, and when he sat at her side on the sofa that evening, she laid her hands gently on his shoulders and gazed intently into his countenance.
“You love me, Schiller, do you not?”
“I love you, although you are a Charlotte. That is the question you intended to ask, is it not?”
She smiled and laid her head on his shoulder. “Schiller, I would that our union of heart and soul had already received its indissoluble consecration. I would that my husband had already given his consent to a separation and I were wholly yours.”
“Are you not truly and wholly mine? Is not our union indissoluble? Does not God, does not the whole world know that we are one and inseparable? Does not society respect and treat our relation to each other with consideration for both of us? The people with whom we come in contact have the discretion to leave us when they observe that we wish to be alone. Did not Von Einsiedel, who called on you this evening, leave again when the servant told him that I was with you? Was not even the Duchess Amelia so considerate as to invite us together yesterday; for that she did so out of consideration for the relation existing between us, Wieland told me.[33] You see, therefore, my dearest friend, that no one doubts, or ignores our union.”
“Why do you call me your dearest friend?” asked she, anxiously.
“Why? Because you are. Is it not your opinion, also, that friendship is the highest power of love?”