'Oh, I remember,' she said hastily. 'There was a child's costume ball at the Hof; I called myself Elizabeth of Thuringia, and Bela, my own Bela, was my little Louis of Hungary. Oh, Egon, why will you speak of those times?'
'Because surely they make a kind of tie between us? They——'
'They do make one that will last all our lives, unless you strain it to bear a weight it is not made to bear. Dear Egon, you are very dear to me, but not dear so. As my cousin, my gallant, kind, and loyal cousin, you are very precious to me; but, Egon, if you could force me to be your wife I should not be indifferent to you, I should hate you!'
He grew white under his olive skin. He shrank a little, as if he suffered some sharp physical pain.
'Hate me!' he echoed in a stupor of surprise and suffering.
'I believe I should, I could hate. It is a frightful thing to say. Dear Egon, look elsewhere; find some other amongst the many lovely women that you see; do not waste your brilliant life on me. I shall never say otherwise than I say to-night' and you will compel me to lose the most trusted friend I have.'
He was still very pale. He breathed heavily. There was a mist over his handsome dark eyes, which were cast down. 'Until you love any other, I shall never abandon hope.'
'That is unwise. I shall probably love no one all my life long; I have told you so often.'
'All say so until love finds them out. I will not trouble you; I will be your cousin, your friend, rather than be nothing to you. But it is hard.'
'Why think of me so? Your career has so much brilliancy, so many charms, so many interests——'