"Oh, Möllner, your heart relents,--I see it does. You do not know what love is. Who was there here to teach you? The poor vapid sentiment that they call by its name, suffices, it is true, for domestic use,--little is given, little required,--how were you to differ from the rest? A genuine passion would have caused infinite commotion in your commonplace, every-day circles. Only intense feeling can beget intense feeling, and whoever has known none such has never lived. Such a man as you must not close his ears like a coward when passion calls. Do not withdraw your hand. This moment must decide whether I remain here or return to Russia. My estates are going to ruin. I must either sell them or return to them myself. Give me the smallest hope of winning your affection, and I will sell all my Russian possessions and live here beneath your dear eyes, in conventual retirement and repose, year after year, until at last you take me to your heart and say, 'I believe in you!' Then--then I will surround you with such a heaven as these cold, timid natures about you do not dream of. One word, Möllner,--no promise, only a hope,--and I am your creature!" Johannes regarded the passionate woman in her demonic beauty with a strange mixture of admiration and horror, sympathy and aversion. At last he adopted a resolution, for he felt that an end must be put to this interview. "Madame," he said,--not without effort, for it was hard for his magnanimous nature to give offence to a woman,--"madame, I see that I must tell you all the truth. Hope nothing. It would certainly inflict a deeper wound were I to tell you I _cannot_ love you,--it would be casting doubt upon your personal charms. What man of flesh and blood could swear that he _could_ not love you--a woman all perfection from head to foot? Such an oath I could not presume to take, for my senses are as keen as other men's. But, countess, I _will_ not love you, and I can swear to what I will, and what I will not do!" He arose, and the countess arose also, and stood opposite to him, a picture of despair. "And must I content myself with this declaration? Am I not worth the being told why?" "Let it suffice you to know that I consider myself bound." "Aha! to the Hartwich!" Johannes stretched out his hand with a deprecatory gesture. "Do not utter her name, madame. I will not hear it from your lips." "It is true, then! That proud, frigid wraith--that phantom, in whose veins there flows not one drop of warm blood--has robbed me of you! Curse her!" "Hush! curse her not, madame; it destroys my new-born pity for you!" cried Johannes. "It is not she that comes between you and me. I could never, never have given you my heart or hand, even had I been entirely free. Do not force me to say to you what no man should say to any woman." "What is it? Let me drain the last drop in the cup. I will not leave you until I know all."