She could scarcely conclude; overcome by passion, she fell upon her knees, stretched out her arms to him as if drowning, and burst into a storm of sobs.
Johannes sought in vain to raise her. He was stunned, as it were, by this volcanic outburst. Suddenly, into the gaping wounds made by Ernestine's coldness, poured the hot lava-stream of a passion of which, in the temperate zone of his German intellectual existence, he had never dreamed. He stood as if before some startling natural phenomenon, amazed, overwhelmed, unable to collect himself. One thought filled his mind. Where he longed for love he could not find it, and where he neither desired nor hoped for it he found it in fullest measure. The contrast was too vivid; as if dazzled, he covered his eyes with his hand, and a profound sigh escaped him.
She drew his hand away from his face, and asked, "Möllner, is that sigh for me?"
"For both of us."
"Möllner!" she said, and her voice was deep and rich, and her soft, gentle touch sought his hand, while her dark, glowing eyes were fixed upon him in an agony of suspense. Thus the beautiful majestic woman knelt there, expiating in the torment of that moment her sin in not keeping herself pure for this long-delayed love, looking up to him as to a redeemer, ready to sacrifice for his sake herself and a life of worldly enjoyment,--for him, the simple student, unadorned by any of the studied graces that distinguished the men that had hitherto crowded around her, and unconscious of having ever sought her love. Could this woman, used only to ask and to have, love him thus, and she, the only one who could ever be to him what his whole soul thirsted for,--she for whom he would only too willingly have sacrificed his life, resign him for an illusion, a chimera, that could never give her one moment's joy? He grew giddy,--he drew his hands from the countess's grasp, and sprang up. She bowed her head upon the lounge that he had just left, and hid her face in her arms, as if awaiting the death-stroke from the sword of the executioner. Now, when she knelt thus in the abandonment of her grief, for the first time he perceived her wonderful loveliness,--but only for one moment,--the next, he turned from her and threw open a shutter, admitting the broad day to chase away the bewildering twilight that filled the room. A cool breeze had arisen,--he inhaled it thirstily, and, when he turned again to the countess, he was calm. Reflection, so native to him, had conquered his agitation, and by his sufferings for Ernestine's sake he knew how to pity this woman who loved so hopelessly. It was the purest compassion that beamed in his eyes as he raised her head, but again his glance had upon her the effect of magic.
"Oh, not that look, Möllner! Do not look thus while you sentence me! it makes my doom doubly hard to bear. If you cannot tell me that you love me, turn those eyes away,--their glance would wake the dead!"
"Good heavens! Countess Worronska, how can I find the right words in which to tell you what I must, if you so increase the labour of the task? I pray you, dear friend, listen to me calmly, and think what you impose upon me,--either I must play the hypocrite, or give the worst offence that can befall a woman."
The countess sprang up, and measured him with a look in which pain and anger strove for the mastery. He took her hands and gently forced her to sit down upon the sofa,--she yielded to him mechanically.
"Dear Countess Worronska, for both our sakes let me preserve the temperate self-possession not easy to so ardent and impulsive a temperament as yours, but all the more incumbent upon the man to whose hands you so confidingly entrust your future destiny. It would be of little avail to tell you that you promise more than you can ever perform. You would not believe me, for the woman who loves thinks no sacrifice too great. But even true affection is subject to natural change. For a time much may be resigned without a murmur, for unaccustomed joy will compensate for unaccustomed privations, but, dear countess, one grows used even to the joy of love, and, though it may not grow cold, it gradually ceases to be an exceptional bliss, and becomes a natural condition, in which the requirements of our nature, the habits of our birth and education, reassert themselves. And if we are unable to meet these, in spite of our affection we become conscious of a want that may in the end deprive us even of the knowledge of our happiness. This fate is unavoidable in a marriage where upon either side a disproportionate sacrifice is made. Formed as you are, you could never content yourself with the trivial domestic affairs of a German scholar; you would soon pine in such captivity, and, without losing your love for me, in the sincerity of which I believe, you would long for your previous mode of living. Those who have never all their lives long recognized the restraints of homely duty can scarcely reconcile themselves to them, however honest their intentions may be. As soon as you felt that your duties to me imposed a restraint upon you,--and you would feel this sooner or later,--you would be wretched!"
"It is enough, Professor Möllner," cried the countess. "Give yourself no further trouble in persuading me to doubt myself. If you loved me, you could not consider so prudently my advantage in the matter. If you felt for me as I do for you, you would not ask how long we might be happy,--you would enjoy the moment and be willing for it to resign an eternity. Oh, proud and great as you are, you bear the brand of a petty existence upon your brow, although you know it not. In truth, Möllner, your cool repulse does not shame me, for I feel that in the past hour I have been the nobler of the two!"