“But, Freddie, Freddie,” he interrupted, “my dear girl, how you rush on! Where have you obtained all your experience of human [[106]]nature, that you can give me such a precise description of Eline’s character?”
It irritated her to hear how softly, almost caressingly, he pronounced her name.
“Knowledge of human nature? I know nothing about that. I only know what I feel, and that is, that Eline lives but for herself, and is incapable of making the slightest sacrifice for another. I feel—nay, I declare, I am convinced of it—that if you married Eline, you would never, never be happy. She might like you for a time, but her love would only be egotism, as everything in her is egotism.”
“Freddie, you are severe,” he said, softly but reproachfully. “’Tis very nice of you to feel so much for me, but you are very, very hard on Eline. I don’t think you know her, and, on the contrary, I believe that she would sacrifice herself altogether for one she loved.”
“You say I don’t know her; but how can you know her then? You only see her when she is all smiles and amiability.”
“Do you think it a fault in her, that she prefers to be amiable rather than discourteous?”
Frédérique gave a sigh. “Oh, Otto, I—I don’t know what I think; I only feel that you cannot be happy with her,” she said, in a tone of conviction.
He took her hand and smiled. “Why, you speak as though we were going to be married to-morrow.”
“Oh, do—do tell me—don’t think me—inquisitive. You haven’t—proposed to her, have you?”
He looked at her, still smiling, and slowly shook his head.