"Run away; living with another man: how vulgar that sounds!" Treurenberg exclaims, angrily.
"Our language has no other words for this case."
"I do not comprehend you; you judge as harshly as the rest."
They have walked on and have reached a rustic seat quite in the shade, beyond the light even of the coloured lamps. Harry sits down; Lato follows his example.
"How am I to judge, then?" Harry asks.
"In my eyes Ada was a martyr," Treurenberg asserts.
"So she was in mine," Harry admits.
"I have the greatest admiration for her."
"And I only the deepest compassion," Harry declares, adding, in a lower tone, "I say not a word in blame of her; Niki was the guiltier of the two. A really noble woman, when she loves, forgets to consider the consequences of her conduct, especially when pity sanctifies her passion and atones in her eyes for her sin. She sees an ideal life before her, and does not doubt that she shall attain it. Ada believed that she should certainly procure her divorce, and that all would be well. She did not see the mire through which she should have to struggle to attain her end, and that even were it attained, no power on earth could wash out the stains incurred in attaining it. Niki should have spared her that; he knew life well enough to be perfectly aware of the significance of the step she took for him."
"Yes, you are right; women never know the world; they see about them only what is fair and sacred, a young girl particularly."