"Dear Countess Worronska, for both our sakes let me preserve the temperate self-possession not easy to so ardent and impulsive a temperament as yours, but all the more incumbent upon the man to whose hands you so confidingly entrust your future destiny. It would be of little avail to tell you that you promise more than you can ever perform. You would not believe me, for the woman who loves thinks no sacrifice too great. But even true affection is subject to natural change. For a time much may be resigned without a murmur, for unaccustomed joy will compensate for unaccustomed privations, but, dear countess, one grows used even to the joy of love, and, though it may not grow cold, it gradually ceases to be an exceptional bliss, and becomes a natural condition, in which the requirements of our nature, the habits of our birth and education, reassert themselves. And if we are unable to meet these, in spite of our affection we become conscious of a want that may in the end deprive us even of the knowledge of our happiness. This fate is unavoidable in a marriage where upon either side a disproportionate sacrifice is made. Formed as you are, you could never content yourself with the trivial domestic affairs of a German scholar; you would soon pine in such captivity, and, without losing your love for me, in the sincerity of which I believe, you would long for your previous mode of living. Those who have never all their lives long recognized the restraints of homely duty can scarcely reconcile themselves to them, however honest their intentions may be. As soon as you felt that your duties to me imposed a restraint upon you,--and you would feel this sooner or later,--you would be wretched!" "It is enough, Professor Möllner," cried the countess. "Give yourself no further trouble in persuading me to doubt myself. If you loved me, you could not consider so prudently my advantage in the matter. If you felt for me as I do for you, you would not ask how long we might be happy,--you would enjoy the moment and be willing for it to resign an eternity. Oh, proud and great as you are, you bear the brand of a petty existence upon your brow, although you know it not. In truth, Möllner, your cool repulse does not shame me, for I feel that in the past hour I have been the nobler of the two!" "You are right, my friend. A woman as beautiful, as high in rank, and as richly endowed as yourself has no cause to blush for having vainly offered to one what thousands covet so greedily. Believe me, if one of us is shamed, it is I, to whom favour has been shown so undeserved, so unhoped-for,--such favour as only the bountiful gods bestow,--a favour which I can never deserve or repay!" Deeply moved, he took her hand; again her eyes sought his.