"But the world is large. You must find a girl who loves you for yourself, who will raise you above yourself, who----"
Felix's eyes rest on his brother-in-law, then they turn to Elsa.
"It is all of no use, Erwin;" he suddenly interrupts him and rises. "And even if I found what is not to be found, and even if an angel came down from heaven to console me, I must repulse her. I have no right to marry for the sake of the children who would bear my name. Ask Elsa for her opinion."
Elsa bows her head and is silent. He gives Erwin his hand, seizes his hat and, without having bid Elsa good-night, with the bearing of an offended man, takes a few hasty steps--then he turns, and as he sees Elsa still standing motionless, her face drawn with deepest misery, near the chair which he has left, he hurries back to her and takes her in his arms. "I was wrong to be angry, Elsa," murmurs he. "I know you must love me to have forgiven me. It may well be indifferent to him," with a half nod to Erwin. "I was not myself to-day; have patience with me."
The tears of the brother and sister mingle. Then Felix tears himself away.
"Will you come back to-morrow?" asks Elsa.
"Yes, to say farewell."
"My God! what are you going to do?"
"I am going away--it is better for me elsewhere--and you, you are very good to me, but----you do not need me."
With that he goes. Erwin accompanies him. Then he returns to his wife, whom he finds where he had left her. She is not one of those who for long yield themselves to the weak enjoyment of tears. Her eyes are dry again, but so indescribably sad and staring that Erwin would rather see them wet. He draws her on his knees and whispers a thousand calming words of tenderness to her, but she remains absent.