Anna, confused and pale, looked at him in silence. He was laughing at her; and she besought him with her gaze to have pity upon her.
"Forgive me, Anna. But you know it is my bad habit not to take seriously things that appear very serious to others. My raillery hurts you. But some day you must really try to tell me why you care for me."
"Because you are you," she said softly.
"That's a very profound reason," he answered smiling. "But it would require many hours of meditation to be understood. And, of course, you will always love me?"
"Always."
"May I say something that will pain you?"
"Say it," she sighed.
"It seems to me, then, that you are slightly changeable. A year ago you thought you loved another, and would love him always. Confess that you have utterly forgotten him. And in another year—what will my place be?"
But he checked himself. She had become livid, and her eyes were full of tears.
"I have pained you too much. Nothing gives pain like the truth," he said. "But there, smile a little. Don't you think smiles are as interesting as tears? You're very lovely when you smile."