"I will not spare you!" burst forth Friedemann, unable longer to master his agitation. "You have torn open my bleeding heart-wounds in cruel sport! I will not spare you! I have bought the right to speak with my happiness here and hereafter. I gave you all, Natalie—truth for falsehood, pure, faithful love for frivolous, heartless mockery!"
"I did not mock you!" cried Natalie.
"Did you love me, then?"
"I can not answer that."
"Tell me, Natalie—did you love me?"
"What good can it do? Are we not parted for ever?"
"No; by my soul, no! Nothing shall part us if you love me! But, I must be convinced of that. If you have not—if you do not—I ask you, why did you tempt the free-hearted youth, who lived but for his art, with encouraging looks and flattering words?"
"Be silent!" cried the girl.
Friedemann's burst of grief was convulsive, and he covered his face with his hands.
At length Natalie said,