alette and began to work his
brush on it, standing before his picture with his back to Deronda, who
also felt himself at a break in his path embarrassed by Hans's
embarrassment.
Presently Hans said, again speaking low, and without turning, "Excuse
the question, but does Mrs. Grandcourt know of all this?"
"No; and I must beg of you, Hans," said Deronda, rather angrily, "to
cease joking on that subject. Any notions you have are wide of the
truth--are the very reverse of the truth."
"I am no more inclined to joke than I shall be at my own funeral," said
Hans. "But I am not at all sure that you are aware what are my notions
on that subject."
"Perhaps not," said Deronda. "But let me say, once for all, that in
relation to Mrs. Grandcourt, I never have had, and never shall have the
position of a lover. If you have ever seriously put that interpretation
on anything you have observed, you are supremely mistaken."
There was silence a little while, and to each the silence was like an
irritating air, exaggerating discomfort.
"Perhaps I have been mistaken in another interpretation, also," said
Hans, presently.
"What is that?"
"That you had no wish to hold the position of a lover toward another
woman, who is neither wife nor widow."
"I can't pretend not to understand you, Meyrick. It is painful that our
wishes should clash. I hope you will tell me if you have any ground for
supposing that you would succeed."
"That seems rather a superfluous inquiry on your part, Deronda," said
Hans, with some irritation.
"Why superfluous?"
"Because you are perfectly convinced on the subject--and probably have
had the very best evidence to convince you."
"I will be more frank with you than you are with me," said Deronda,
still heated by Hans' show of temper, and yet sorry for him. "I have
never had the slightest evidence that I should succeed myself. In fact,
I have very little hope."
Hans looked round hastily at his friend, but immediately turned to his
picture again.
"And in our present situation," said Deronda, hurt by the idea that
Hans suspected him of insincerity, and giving an offended emphasis to
his words, "I don't see how I can deliberately make known my feeling to
her. If she could not return it, I should have embittered her best
comfort; for neither she nor I can be parted from her brother, and we
should have to meet continually. If I were to cause her that sort of
pain by an unwilling betrayal of my fee
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