As she uttered that lie she felt it tortured her, but it was for the sake of Vincent, who loved her, and who must not know of her own grief. He looked at her penetratingly, asking himself why it was that she lied, but he was at a loss to account for it, he could not understand it at all; the only thing he did understand was that in the soul of woman there always remained something that was strange and mysterious, a mist that could not be penetrated. Neither did she understand him. She could not understand why he did not ask her to love him, now that there was nothing more to separate them, and now that he was on the point of going away. In another hour he would be gone. Oh, perhaps he thought it was too late. She sighed, and eagerly she said—
“Vincent, one thing you must promise me; if ever I can do anything for you, write to me, and I assure you I shall not disappoint you. Will you promise me this?”
“I promise you, and I thank you.”
“And something else. I know you are often in want of money. If at anytime I can help you with any, pray write to me. Just now, for instance, I have two hundred and fifty florins in cash lying here; are they of any use to you? if so, they are at your disposal. May I give you the money?”
She had already risen to open her escritoire, but he grasped her hand with something like emotion.
“Elly—Elly—no, Elly—not that—thank you very much. It is most kind of you indeed, but I could not return you the money for ever so long perhaps.”
“Oh, come now, don’t—don’t refuse me. ’Tis a pleasure to me, I assure you.”
“Once again, I don’t know how to thank you, but really—I—I cannot accept it—really I can’t.”
She stood still, and her cheeks turned white as marble. Yes, yes, indeed, he loved her, how could she doubt it? If he did not, would [[232]]he have refused to accept the money? Yes, she could see it, he would not owe her money, because he loved her. But why did he not speak then?
At length he rose, the cab was to be at the door in a few minutes.