and upset--and I am always stupid in that condition. My
attempt at reconciliation may have been clumsy enough; but she might
surely have seen that I had no intention to mystify and distress her.
And yet, what else could she have imagined?--to judge by her own actions
and words.

"Her bedroom candle was on the table behind me. She snatched it up and
held it before my face, and looked at me as if I was some extraordinary
object that she had never seen or heard of before! 'You are little
better than a child,' she said; 'I have ten times your strength of
will--what is there in you that I can't resist? Go away from me! Be
on your guard against me! I am false; I am suspicious; I am cruel. You
simpleton, have you no instincts to protect you? Is there nothing in you
that shrinks from me?'

"She put down the candle, and burst into a wretched mocking laugh.
'There she stands,' cried this strange creature, 'and looks at me with
the eyes of a baby that sees something new! I can't frighten her. I
can't disgust her. What does it mean?' She dropped into a chair; her
voice sank almost to a whisper--I should have thought she was afraid of
me, if such a thing had been possible. 'What do you know of me, that I
don't know of myself?' she asked.

"It was quite beyond me to understand what she meant. I took a chair,
and sat down by her. 'I only know what you said to me yesterday,' I
answered.

"'What did I say?'

"'You told me you were miserable.'

"'I told you a lie! Believe what I have said to you to-day. In your own
interests, believe it to be the truth!'

"Nothing would induce me to believe it. 'No,' I said. 'You were
miserable yesterday, and you are miserable to-day. _That_ is the truth!'

"What put my next bold words into my head, I don't know. It doesn't
matter; the thought was in me--and out it came.

"'I think you have some burden on your mind,' I went on. 'If I can't
relieve you of it, perhaps I can help you bear it. Come! tell me what
it is.' I waited; but it was of no use--she never even looked at me.
Because I am in love myself, do I think everybody else is like me?
I thought she blushed. I don't know what else I thought. 'Are you in
love?' I asked.

"She jumped up from her chair, so suddenly and so violently that she
threw it on the floor. Still, not a word passed her lips. I found
courage enough to go on--but not courage enough to look at her.

"'I love Ovid, and Ovid loves me,' I said. 'There is my consolation,