I listened to all without really realizing what he said, my head throbbed, my heart ached, recognizing one wish only. "There is no need for him to change his manner towards me; all I want him to do is to let me know," said something within me. I stopped and, laying one hand on his arm, looked up at him in anguish. "Tell me why you do so much for me?" It seemed that his face grew pale and stern. "Because I am your friend." "And is that everything?" I asked again. "Everything," he replied, shaking my hand off his arm. After that I remained so still that I thought that I heard the beating of his heart and mine. But all at once a voice roused me, a voice that revealed to me new depths of his soul, a voice composed of torture and pain, which bridged the way back to happiness and joy. "Do you really want to hear that phrase?" he said. "You are too good for it; I have made a vow never to remember that you are a woman." I stood in silence by his side. My eyes looked into the far distance and my thoughts measured years to come--years during which we would give each other all the treasures of heart and soul without ever getting any the poorer--years during which neither of us would know the pangs of remorse, the blushing with shame--years during which I would suffer all that a woman may suffer. "Do you trust me?" he asked. "Yes," I answered simply; and we grasped each other's hands in silence.... The time that followed now I can never describe. Our meetings, short though they were, were so filled with embarrassed happiness, with timid tenderness, that no colour, no brush, no pen, could ever do them full justice. But there were hours of quite a different nature too. Hours when strange moods got hold of us--hours when he pulled himself up, just as if to shake off something--hours when his eyes lost their tranquil light, and looked dark and gloomy--hours when the beast was roused within him. Then I felt and understood vaguely the strength of his passion, and grew almost afraid of him. If he forgot his vow for a single moment only, then woe to our friendship and woe to me! Chapter XIII A whole year passed in this way, and I believe without doubt that I was truly happy. A dull sense of fear, however, had gradually got hold of me. No more did I sit down to my books when the children lay asleep, as my habit had been, but sat crouched in a corner, brooding over thoughts that would be ignored no longer. "What would be the end of it all?" I shuddered when I remembered the strange, sad looks he gave me sometimes. Would it be possible to carry our friendship unsullied through the flames of passion? And then the question rose again, which I had believed to have silenced for ever, with many a beautiful phrase--the question of all Philistines! "Why does he not marry me? Why not?"