u had saved my life, because
it is true, for life was a burden to me till I knew you, and you have
made it worth living."

"But do you not see into what a degrading position you force me?"

"I hoped you would never hear about it. My intentions were so good. Our
relations to one another must be explained in some way. I wanted to
shield your reputation from these people and shut their mouths."

"You see, my poor Pilar," said Wilhelm sadly, "your excuse is the
bitterest criticism upon our relations. You yourself feel how ugly the
naked truth would look, and try to dress it up before the eyes of the
world. That kind of life cannot go on. We are doomed to destruction in
such an atmosphere of lies. We must return somehow to truth and order."
At his last words she let go of him and turned very pale.

"Ah, then it is only a pretext," she cried; "you want to get up a
quarrel with me as an excuse for breaking with me. That is unmanly of
you, that is cowardly. Be frank, tell me straight out what you want. I
have a right to demand absolute candor of you."

Her words stabbed him like a knife. There was some truth in her
accusation. It was neither honest nor manly to make so much of her fibs
when he had something very different in his mind. She appealed to his
candor--she should not do so in vain.

"It was not a pretext," he said, and forced himself to look into her
face that seemed turning to stone, "but a prompting cause. You ask for
the truth, and you shall have it, for I owe it you. Well then, things
cannot remain as they are. I cannot go on living as a hanger-on in this
house. I--"

He sought painfully for words, but could find none.

Pilar breathed hard. "Well--in short--" The words came out as if she
were being strangled.

"In short, Pilar--I must--we shall have--"

"I will not help you. Finish--you shall say the word."

"We shall have to part, Pilar."

"Wretch!" The cry wrenched itself from her breast.

Wilhelm rose and prepared to leave the room. But at the same instant
she had rushed to him, and clinging wildly to him, she cried, beside
herself with anguish:

"Don't go, Wilhelm, don't be angry with me. You don't know what I
feel--you are torturing me to death."

Her sobs were so violent that she could not keep upon her feet, and
sank on the floor in front of him. He lifted her up and set her on a
chair, and his own eyes were wet as he said:

"I am not suffering less than you, Pilar, but the cup of bitter