"What should you love in me? I warned you that I cannot always move about with the crown of thorns and sceptre of reeds as Ecce Homo, and you now perceive that you were deceived in me, that I am only a poor, ordinary man, your inferior in education and intellect! And so long as I am not a real Ecce Homo--though that perhaps might happen--so long I am not what you need. But however poor and insignificant I may be--I am not without honor--and when I think that you only come occasionally, out of compassion, to bring the beggar the crumbs which your fine gentlemen have left me--then, I will speak frankly--then my pride rebels and I would rather starve than accept alms."
"And therefore you thrust back the loving wife when, with an overflowing heart, she stole away from the glittering circles of society to hasten to your side, therefore you were cold and stern, disdaining what the others sought in vain!--For, however distant you may be, there has not been an hour of my life which you might not have witnessed--however free and independent of you I may stand, there is not a fibre in my heart which does not cling to you! Ah, if you could only understand this deep, sacred tie which binds the freest spirit to the husband, the father of my child. If I had wings to soar over every land and sea--I should ever be drawn back to you and would return as surely as 'the bird bound by the silken cord.' No one can part me from you except you yourself. That you are not my equal in education, as you assert, does not sever us, but inferiority of character would do so, for nothing but greatness attracts me--to find you base would be the death-knell of our love! Even the child would no longer be a bond between us, for to intellectual natures like mine the ties of blood are mere animal instincts, unless pervaded and transfigured by a loftier idea. The greatest peril which threatens our love is that your narrow views prevent your attaining the standpoint from which a woman like myself must be judged. I have great faults which need great indulgence and a superiority which is not alarmed by them. Unfortunately, my friend, you lack both. I have a great love for you--but you measure it by the contracted scales of your humdrum morality, and before this it vanishes because its dimensions far transcend it.--Where, where, my friend, is the grandeur, the freedom of the soul which I need?"
"Alas, your words are but too true," said Freyer, releasing her from his embrace. "Every word is a death sentence. You ask a grandeur which I do not possess and shall never obtain. I grew up in commonplace ideas, I have never seen any other life than that in which the husband and wife belonged together, the father and mother reared, tended, and watched their children together, and love in this close, tender companionship reached its highest goal. This idea of quiet domestic happiness embodied to me all the earthly bliss allotted by God to Christian husbands and wives. Of a love which is merely incidental, something in common with all the other interests of life, and which when it comes in conflict with them, must move aside and wait till it is permitted to assert itself again, of such a love I had no conception--at least, not in marriage! True, we know that in the dawn of love it is kept secret as something which must be hidden. But this is a state of restless torture, which we strive to end as soon as possible by a marriage. That such a condition of affairs would be possible in marriage would never have entered my mind, and say what you will, a--marriage like ours is little better than an illegal relation."
The countess started--she had had the same thought that very day.
"And I "--Freyer inexorably continued--"am little more than your lover! If you choose to be faithful to me, I shall be grateful, but do not ask the 'grandeur' as you call it, of my believing it. Whoever regards conjugal duties so lightly--whoever, like you, feels bound by no law 'which was only made for poor, ordinary people' will keep faith only--so long as it is agreeable to do so."
The countess, gazing into vacancy, vainly strove to find a reply.
"This seems very narrow, very ridiculous from your lofty standpoint. You see I shall always be rustic. It is a misfortune for you that you came to me. Why did you not remain in your own aristocratic circle--gentlemen of noble birth would have understood you far better than a poor, plain man like me. I tell myself so daily--it is the worm which gnaws at my life. Now you have the 'greatness' you desire, the only 'greatness' I can offer--that of the perception of our misery."
Madeleine nodded hopelessly. "Yes, we are in an evil strait. I despair more and more of restoring peace between us--for it would be possible only in case I could succeed in making you comprehend the necessity of the present certainly unnatural form of our marriage. Yet you cannot and will not see that a woman like me cannot live in poverty, that wealth, though it does not render me happy, is nevertheless indispensable, not on account of the money, but because with it honor, power, and distinction would be lost. You know that this would follow an acknowledgement of our marriage, and I would die rather than resign them. I was born to a station too lofty to be content in an humble sphere. Do you expect the eagle to descend to a linnet's nest and dwell there? It would die, for it can breathe only in the regions for which it was created."
"But the eagle should never have stooped to the linnet," said Freyer, gloomily.
"I believed that I should find in you a consort, aspiring enough to follow me to my heights, for the wings of your genius rustled with mighty strokes above me when you hung upon the cross. Oh, can one who, like you, has reached the height of the cross, sink to the Philistine narrowness of the ideas of the lower classes and thrust aside the foaming elixir of love, because it is not proffered in the usual wooden bowl of the daily performance of commonplace duties? It is incredible, but true. And lastly you threaten that I shall make you an Ecce Homo! If you were, it would be no fault of mine but because, even in daily life, you could not cease to play the Christ."