"All the better."
"But, then, I should sacrifice you, and that would be misery for me…. You see, there is no solving the difficulty either way. Let us stay as we are. Could there be anything better than our friendship?"
He nodded his head and smiled a little bitterly.
"Yes. That is all very well. But at bottom you don't love me enough."
She smiled too, gently, with a little melancholy, and said, with a sigh:
"Perhaps. You are right. I am no longer young. I am tired. Life wears one out unless one is very strong, like you…. Oh! you, there are times when I look at you and you seem to be a boy of eighteen."
"Alas! With my old face, my wrinkles, my dull skin!"
"I know that you have suffered as much as I—perhaps more. I can see that. But sometimes you look at me with the eyes of a boy, and I feel you giving out a fresh stream of life. I am worn out. When I think of my old eagerness, then—alas! As one said, 'Those were great days. I was very unhappy!' I hold to life only by a thread. I should never be bold enough to try marriage again. Ah! Then! Then!… If you had only given a sign!…"
"Well, then, well, tell me…."
"No. It is not worth the trouble."