They were both mute. The Princess pushed the end of her cane thoughtfully into the velvet turf. She hesitated some moments, then said in a low voice: 'Were I you I would stay.'
'Do not tempt me! I have stayed too long as it is. What can she think of me?'
'She does not think about your reasons; she is too proud a woman to be vain. In a measure you have won her friendship. Perhaps—I do not know, I have no grounds to say so—but perhaps in time you might win more.'
She looked at him as she concluded. He grew exceedingly pale.
He stooped over her chair, and spoke very low:
'It is just because that appears possible that I go. Do not misunderstand me, I am not a coxcomb; je ne me pose pas en vainqueur. But I have no place here, since I have no equality with her from which to be able to say, "I love you!" Absence alone can say it for me without offence as without hope.'
The Princess was silent. She was thinking of the maxim,; L'absence éteint les petites passions et allume les grandes.' Which was his?
'You have been so good to me,' he murmured caressingly, 'so benevolent, so merciful, I dare to ask of you a greater kindness yet. Will you explain for me to the Countess von Szalras that I am called away suddenly, and make my excuses and my farewell? It will save me much fruitless pain.'
'And if it give her pain?'
'I cannot suppose that, and I should not dare to hope it.'