r in your eyes; wherefore, I tell you outright that wherever
I go I see only you--all the rest is a matter of indifference.

"Why or how I have come to love you I do not know. It may be that you
are not altogether fair to look upon. Do you know, I am ignorant even
as to what your face is like. In all probability, too, your heart is
not comely, and it is possible that your mind is wholly ignoble."

"And because you do not believe in my nobility of soul you think to
purchase me with money?" she said.

"WHEN have I thought to do so?" was my reply.

"You are losing the thread of the argument. If you do not wish to
purchase me, at all events you wish to purchase my respect."

"Not at all. I have told you that I find it difficult to explain
myself. You are hard upon me. Do not be angry at my chattering. You
know why you ought not to be angry with me--that I am simply an
imbecile. However, I do not mind if you ARE angry. Sitting in my room,
I need but to think of you, to imagine to myself the rustle of your
dress, and at once I fall almost to biting my hands. Why should you be
angry with me? Because I call myself your slave? Revel, I pray you, in
my slavery--revel in it. Do you know that sometimes I could kill
you?--not because I do not love you, or am jealous of you, but, because
I feel as though I could simply devour you... You are laughing!"

"No, I am not," she retorted. "But I order you, nevertheless, to be
silent."

She stopped, well nigh breathless with anger. God knows, she may not
have been a beautiful woman, yet I loved to see her come to a halt like
this, and was therefore, the more fond of arousing her temper. Perhaps
she divined this, and for that very reason gave way to rage. I said as
much to her.

"What rubbish!" she cried with a shudder.

"I do not care," I continued. "Also, do you know that it is not safe
for us to take walks together? Often I have a feeling that I should
like to strike you, to disfigure you, to strangle you. Are you certain
that it will never come to that? You are driving me to frenzy. Am I
afraid of a scandal, or of your anger? Why should I fear your anger? I
love without hope, and know that hereafter I shall love you a thousand
times more. If ever I should kill you I should have to kill myself too.
But I shall put off doing so as long as possible, for I wish to
continue enjoying the unbearable pain which your coldness gives me. Do
you know a very strange thing? It is that, with e