Lilly's first sensation was one of surprise--not joyous surprise, indeed not. Then came an unspeakably mournful cry, which no mortal ear heard, though all the more painful in its muteness.

"Too late--a lost chance--nothing to hope for--no more happiness on earth--too late!"

She leaned back on the sofa and studied the ceiling attentively and thoroughly.

He was awaiting his answer.

If she lowered her eyes, she would have to encounter his eyes, which ate into her soul. No salvation from those eyes, no salvation from that which must perforce come.

And he was waiting.

Then she heard her own voice, very clear and very calm, as if Mrs. Jula were speaking in her place, that little artist of life with the iron brow.

"I thought, Konni, you and I had agreed never to marry."

"How can you remind me of it?" he cried violently. "Did I know how things would turn out when I said it? Did I know who you are and what bliss and torture a G.o.ddess of a woman like you can bestow on a poor devil? Yes, torture. I must tell you everything to-day. I'm at my wit's end. There's a break in my life. Everything is torn asunder--my work, my thoughts, my belief in you. You want to be my good genius. Instead you're almost my evil genius. Don't be frightened. It's not your fault.

I am not reproaching you--only myself, for being so weak. I want to work. I must work. I have a.s.sumed a number of _new_ duties. I thought if duty came from the outside, I could force myself into the right path.

The very reverse has happened. I'm growing stupid just from wrestling with myself. I must bring peace into our lives, else we're both lost.

And I can't have peace unless you belong to me _altogether_, unless your bed is next to my bed, and the desk is in the next room, and you're always with me."

"I can move to you in the autumn," Lilly interjected timidly.

"No, nothing of that sort any more. No self-reproaches, no secretiveness. Should I have it on my conscience that each additional day on which you sacrifice yourself, you're drawing nearer to ruin? And it's bound to ruin you. It will cling to you like dirt. And why should we create dirt out of what is most sacred to us? Or am I not good enough to be your life-companion? Do you think you will be too poor as my wife?"

She repudiated the idea with a lively exclamation of scorn.

"I don't know, and I don't need to know, how much you have. I am rich enough now. I get three hundred marks a month from my uncle; Dr. Salmoni pays me four hundred--"

Oh, how she started at the name!

"And I can easily earn another three hundred by writing articles--in all a thousand a month, a general's salary. You may be satisfied."

"Keep quiet," she cried, almost beside herself. "It isn't that."

"Then what is it?"

He planted himself in front of her challengingly. Between his brows were those folds of wrath which cut her like a knife. She ducked her head.

Never since the colonel's time had she experienced such fear of a human being.

"Tell me what it is. Apparently you don't love me enough. You still cling to the man who forgot you long ago. You probably say to yourself: 'The stupid boy is good enough for a pa.s.sing love; he's good enough for whiling the time away. But if he shows any intentions of interfering with my life, I must get rid of him with all possible speed.' Am I not right? Tell me. Be brave! What harm can I do you? Just tell me that I'm nothing but a _pis aller_, the sort of man you wouldn't want as a husband. When I've made a name for myself, then you will be willing to consider marriage, too. Am I not right?--Well, then."

He picked up his hat to go.

"Have pity on me, Konni," she implored. She had glided down from her seat to lay her head on his knees, and now she crouched between the sofa and Konrad's chair, and groped for support.

"I don't need _your_ pity, you don't need _mine_," he cried. "Until to-day you've been the n.o.blest thing on earth to me. But I won't suffer myself just to be expunged from your life. Tell me why you don't want to marry me--_one_ plausible reason, and I'll never return to the subject again. I promise you."

"Give me until to-morrow," she groaned.

"Why? For what? To-day is as good as to-morrow. I've come to the end of my tether. I can't spend another night of torture."

"I will write to you."

That surprised him.

"What will you write?"

"Whether I may or not. And the reasons and everything."

"During the night I'll manage to find some way out," she thought.

"When will I get the letter?"

"To-morrow morning by the first delivery."

"Very well. I will wait until then. Good-by, Lilly."

When he helped her back on the sofa, and held his hand out in farewell, and she saw his eyes fastened on her with their candid, magnanimous expression, which a lie had never clouded--unsuspicious still--she was suddenly convinced that evasion was no longer possible.

"Truth! Nothing but the truth. Even if it lead to perdition, Konrad must now be told the truth." The thought flooded her soul like a warm, soothing stream.

But she could not tell him the truth face to face. n.o.body would have the strength of will for that.

The reaction did not set in until she was left alone. The impulse for self-preservation a.s.serted itself. If Mrs. Jula could do it, she could, too. Mrs. Jula had much worse things to conceal.

Richard, of course, would say nothing; which was the main consideration.

Now that he wished to go his own way, it was to his interest for her to vanish decorously from his life. The rest of the "crew" might tattle to their heart's content. Konrad was immune against their poison. The only dangerous person was Dr. Salmoni. But if she went to him soon and begged him, he, too, would maintain silence. He had sufficiently strong motives for hushing his disgraceful attempt upon her. Besides, Mrs. Jula had said: "You must wear a smile on your brow but beneath the smile your brow must be of iron."

Thus Lilly revolved the situation in her mind.

But in the midst of her brooding and planning she was seized with disgust of herself and her intentions, which tore the whole tissue of deceit into ragged bits.

Why, it was sheer folly to think she would always be able to play the false part. If upon the mere mention of Dr. Salmoni's name she dreaded appearing on the street with Konrad, how could she go through a lifetime at his side haunted by that ever-present fear? What repulses and humiliations she would have to undergo whenever Konrad led her into the society in which as his wife she would belong--she, whom the papers had taken up and treated as a rising star in the fashionable demi-monde?

And, worst of all, if Konrad should begin to suspect! How he would eat his heart away in shame and abhorrence, he, with his pride and delicate susceptibilities and that unworldly purity which alone accounted for the fact that no surmise as to her real life had ever touched his soul.

What an awaking from a short, torturing dream!

No, she could not do what Mrs. Jula had done.

And she threw far from her the shameful thought with which the stress of the hour had stained her wrestling soul.

An exultant craving for self-annihilation came over her, the desire to tear her breast open and throw her throbbing heart at his feet.

So she sat down and wrote:

"My dear, sweet Konni:--

I have shamefully deceived you. I am a prost.i.tute, or something not much better. The man to whom I told you I was betrothed is a myth. He was a little good-for-nothing lieutenant. I wickedly broke my marriage vows for his sake, and he never thought of marrying me, but turned me over to his rich friend, who made me his mistress. His mistress I still am. I have been living for years in the world of vice and vulgarity. I am an outlaw from decent society. Hired mistresses and their lovers who pay them form my sole a.s.sociates. I clung to you, because you in your innocence respected me, and because I, down in the mire, clamoured for respect.