"I am not a child. Let us talk it over seriously. I told you
yesterday I would not let you go. Of course you understand what I
mean by that. I will not keep you if you want to be free. But then
be honest, and tell me frankly that you are tired of me, and want to
be rid of me. I shall at least know what I have to do. Do not be
afraid, I shall not make a scene, I shall not cause you any
annoyance, not even reproach you. I shall receive my sentence of
death in silence, and kiss the hand that inflicts it on me."
She buried her face in her hands, and tears trickled down between
her fingers.
"And all this," said Wilhelm, "because I thought it better not to
accompany you to-day. The whole affair is not worth one of your
tears."
"Then you will come with me?" she cried excitedly, lifting her face
to his.
"I suppose I shall have to, since you talk about death sentences and
terrible things of the kind."
She embraced him frantically, rang the bell, threw the things that
lay about anyhow into the box, and when the waiter came, ordered a
carriage. As they went downstairs she gave a hurried order in the
office, and with a beaming and triumphant face, passed through the
hall on Wilhelm's arm to the carriage.
Their destination was a small house on the Boulevard Pereire, of two
stories, three windows wide, and a balcony in front of the first-
floor windows.
Pages:
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449