“Are you not?” he rejoined, growing bolder as his determination to profit by her complaisance increased. “If I dared to ask you to put yourself for one moment in my place. To get a smile from the loveliest woman in Europe, to be permitted to walk by her side, to talk to her without restraint, in short, to be lifted from this common world into another and a glorious sphere; then to know that he must fall back to the cold earth again after those moments of Heaven; Princess, imagine this and say whether the author of this desolation would deserve blame or pity.”
He spoke with a feeling and impetuousness which were foreign to him, and, as she listened in little more than curiosity, she wondered whether it was feigned or true. If genuine, she could have little pity for the man, and if false, none. But she realized as the speech grew warmer that the situation was becoming unpleasant.
“You are determined to make friendship a terribly serious business,” she said with gentle irresponsiveness. “Now, will you in turn try to put yourself in my place? Then you will see how barren and lonely a life must be which is denied pleasant intercourse with its fellows.”
“The fire must burn alone,” he replied. “The more glowing it is the farther we must keep from it unless we would be consumed.”
She laughed. “Poor fellow! And you are scorched?”
Perhaps her laugh stung him, for, as they sat together, he turned to her fiercely.
“I am scorched,” he answered with intensity. “It is for you to say whether it shall be to the death.”
Something in his manner made her check the part she was playing.
“I do not understand you, Captain von Rollmar,” she said, as she rose with a touch of proud dignity.
He sprang up and stood before her. “I hope that each of us misunderstands the other,” he said meaningly.