What have I done?” I asked, and my heart was growing every moment colder. He shivered too. I was frightened. ‘“Why did you not come sooner?” he asked. “How can one arrange anything at this time of night?” ‘“Oh, darling, there is nothing to arrange,” I exclaimed. “I am here. I have left him for ever and ever. I shall never go back there any more. It is all over. I have no one but you. Listen, Hans!” and then I told him, in a few words, what had happened. He grew quite still and cold as I spoke, with that stillness which one feels all through one, and which is so terrible. When I had done, he looked at me, and said in a strange voice, “You thought of murdering him? Good God!” and no more. ‘Then I knew that my hour was come. I knew I had risked everything, cut myself off from everything, and broken with everything, to be, as you once said to me, at the mercy of a _farceur_. I did not wait; I suddenly pushed him away from me, and stood straight up, and said “Go! You are no better than he is. You are just the same. Leave me. Go home, and _leave_ me here.” ‘He was very much startled. He seemed to awaken from a dream, and a flash came into his eyes, and he sprang towards me again, and would have taken me in his arms. ‘“Leave you, Fulvia! Never, by God! Come to me. Come away with me. I care for nothing if I have you.” Never had I heard his voice with such a tone. Never had I seen his eyes with that look in them. Had he so met me at first, I should have been his beyond recall and beyond repentance. But it had all gone--all the belief, and all the love, and all the dream had vanished. They were no more. He begged, he prayed, he entreated, he conjured me. If he had never loved me before, he did then. Nothing that he did or said made me waver. It was no virtue of mine--there was no more passion left in me. There was no answer in my heart. I scarcely spoke, till at last I felt I must make an end of it, so I said a few cutting words, and asked if he were a poltroon that he tormented me so, after what I had said. At that he seemed at last to understand. He turned on his heel and went away. I was alone--quite alone. I don’t know what time it was. I don’t know how long I stayed there. I am sure I don’t know what I thought. Everything seemed to have come to an end, and I said to myself, “Ah, if I could lie down here and die.” But I knew that if I did lie down I should not die, because I am strong; I should only sleep, and waken again to the bitter world, and all its lies and all the horror of having to act a part. Life plays with us as a cat plays with a mouse. It torments us as long as it can, and at last strikes us down, and opens the grave for us.