"You are puzzled, and do not know how to interpret my words," he continued. "You cannot dream how far beyond reality my fancy soars. But you must feel that I am not a man to play the _bel-esprit_ for my amusement,--to find any satisfaction in measuring my wits to advantage with a woman's,--to take delight in hearing the sound of my own voice. Before I seriously approach a woman, I must be clear in my own mind as to what I can be to her and she to me. You, Fräulein von Hartwich, cannot be to me much or little,--you can be to me everything or nothing. Our natures are both too real to admit of our passing each other by pleasantly, politely, but without enthusiasm, like ephemeral acquaintances in society. We have already, in defiance of conventional rules, formed an intimacy in which character is revealed, and the aim of our intercourse must be a higher one than that of mere amusement. Otherwise I were a boor and you are greatly to blame for enduring me. Only a deep personal interest in you could warrant my relentless treatment of you. I acknowledge that I feel this deep personal interest. More I will not say now, for all else depends upon the development of our relations towards each other, in the increase or decrease of accord in our views of life and its purposes." Ernestine was silent. She began to have some suspicion of what she might be to this strong, upright character, and what he might be to her. But it was not that tender emotion that the first approach of love awakens in the heart of every woman, even the coldest; she was troubled and anxious. The decision with which he spoke convinced her at once that he never could be converted to her views,--that she must mould herself according to his,--that a transformation must take place in one or the other of them, if she would not lose what was already of such value to her. She was not accustomed to self-sacrifice, for her cunning uncle had so educated her, so trained her inclinations to accord with his wishes, that she always supposed she was having her own way, when in reality she was following his. She felt that this hour was a crisis in her life, that she was brought into contact with a will which would require of her great self-sacrifice, and of which she was almost in dread, because it was backed by superior strength. Johannes waited for an answer, but none came. He saw what was going on in Ernestine's mind, and that his words had chilled her, kindly as they were meant. He took her hand and looked into her eyes. "Ah, you will not call me 'kind sir' any more?" Ernestine was conscious of the true kindliness of his look, she felt the gentle clasp of his hand, and involuntarily she held out to him her disengaged hand also, and said almost in a tone of entreaty, "No, you will not be cruel, you will not hurt me." He stood silent for an instant, looking into her clear, confiding eyes, holding both her hands in his, and was for the moment unspeakably happy.