, and
there are men--I do not know whether to call them too proud or too
fastidious--who can only love with their whole heart or not at all, and
who cannot endure that the woman they love should treasure another
image or other memories in her life."

"Stop, my friend, stop!" cried the countess. "You do not realize what
you are saying. That comes of your pride and vanity. You always want to
be the first--to write your names at the head of a blank sheet. Why? Is
the conquest of a silly, ignorant girl more flattering than that of a
woman of sense, who can compare and judge? Is not your triumph a
thousand times greater when a disappointed, deeply-skeptical woman lays
her heart at your feet, and says--'You I will trust, you will bring me
healing and happiness'--than when a young girl gives you her love
because you happen to be the first man who asks for it? Other
images!--other memories! Do you know so little of a woman's heart? Do
you imagine that the past exists for us when real true love comes upon
us? We see nothing in the whole world but the one man, we cannot
believe that our heart has not always beat for him, and we are firmly
persuaded that we have always known and always loved him and him alone."

The eyes that gazed at him glowed with maenad-like desire, and bending
suddenly she covered his hand with lingering, burning kisses.

Wilhelm passed his hand soothingly over the masses of her silky hair,
and it flashed across him how much he had once wished to be able to do
so, and now his wish was fulfilled. Was fulfilled desire really
happiness, as this beautiful woman asserted? His heart beat loud and
fast; he was conscious of emotions long unfelt, and--yes, these
emotions were pleasant ones.

He moved as if to rise, but she clung to his arm to hold him back. He
pointed to the door of the room from which Anne might appear at any
moment.

"Do have a little more pride of spirit," said the countess; "one does
what one likes, without caring what the servants think."

"Let me go," he entreated, and stroked her beautiful hair.

"Why?"

"It is late, and the air in here is close. I should like to take a turn
by the sea. Please--"

She looked at him, and a mysterious smile played about her full lips;
she dropped his arm.

He hastened away toward the shore, where the waves were rolling in,
rattling the pebbles and striking the cliff with dull, heavy thuds. The
August night was mild and full of stars, and there was sc