“Don’t say you told me it was a foolish thing to do. I know it, but I am quite unhappy enough without that.” She sat looking out between the draperies which shaded their corner, but her eyes seemed to see nothing of the gay room and the busy people. Then she turned suddenly to Usk again. “I am very rude and absent of mind,” she said. “You must forgive me, please. I wanted to tell you that I saw your beautiful lady yesterday.”
“Miss Steinherz?” growled Usk.
“Who else could it be? She is very, very beautiful, and her beauty is uncommon—original—how shall I say it?—witchlike?—oh no, that has a bad meaning in English, has it not? Spirit-like? ah, that is it. She is an Undine—before she had found her soul, of course.”
“Why do you say ‘of course’?” asked Usk. Helene started.
“Oh, I beg your pardon. What could I have been thinking of? Please forgive me, I ought not to have said such a thing. It was merely a silly thought of mine. Do forget it, please.”
“I think it was the truth,” said Usk bitterly. “At least, if she has a soul, I have not found it, but I don’t think she has.”
“Oh, don’t say that. She is so beautiful.”
“Judge for yourself. I have fought against it a long time, but now it is forced upon me. She does not love me, and only tolerates me near her to make another man jealous.”
“Oh no, no!” Her tone was sharp with pain. “You love her, and yet you can say this to me—almost a stranger!”
“I have not dared to say it to myself before, but it’s better to face it,” was the stubborn reply. “I oughtn’t to sadden you with it, I know, but I can’t talk to my uncle and aunt about it.”