"I don't love you."
"Dear Anna, dear Anna," he murmured with his caressing voice, "how can I believe you, since you are here. Tell me that you love me a little. For three years I have waited for that word. Dear Anna, sweet Anna, you know that I have adored you for so long a time. Anna, Anna!"
"What has happened was bound to happen," she said.
"Anna, I conjure you,[G] tell me that you love me."
She shuddered as she heard him use the familiar pronoun.
"Do you love me?"
"I don't know. I know nothing."
"Dear one, dear one," he murmured, trembling with hope, in an immense transport of love.
He drew nearer to her and kissed her on the cheek.