"I honored your genius—your heart—"
"You loved me not then, and you do not love me now. If you love me, how can you bear to think of becoming the wife of another?"
"Alas! you know; my station, the will of my uncle—"
"My happiness, my peace is nothing to you?"
"My affection is still yours. I shall never love another. Will not that content you?"
Friedemann's pale face crimsoned; he stamped his foot fiercely.
"Hypocrite! liar! coward that I am," he cried; "and all for a coquette!"
Natalie protested against his injustice. She reminded him of her history: her noble birth and orphaned condition; the state and splendor with which her uncle had surrounded her; her scorn of mere pomp and luxury; her isolation in the midst of flatterers and smiling fools; her discernment of the manhood in him—her lover.
"Then be my wife, Natalie!"
She shook her head.