"I should not be happier if you were away--if what you think is true, should I?" said Karen. "Yes, my child," Madame von Marwitz returned, and now almost with severity. "You would. You would not so sharply feel your husband's aversion for me if I were not here. You would not have it in your ears; before your eyes." "I thought that you talked together quite easily to-night," Karen continued. "I saw, of course, that you did not understand each other; but with time that might be. I thought that if you were here he would by degrees come to know you, for he does not know you yet." "We talked easily, did we not, my child, to shield you, and you were not more deceived by the ease than he or I. He does not understand me? I hope so indeed. But to say that I do not understand him shows already your wish to shield him, and at my expense. I do understand him; too well. And if there is this repugnance in him now, may it not grow with the enforced intimacy? That is my fear, my dread." "He has never said that he disliked you." "Said it? To you? I should imagine not, _parbleu_!" "He has only said," Karen pursued with a curious doggedness, "that he did not feel that you cared for him to care." "Ah! Is it so? You have talked of it, then? And he has said that? And did you believe it? Of me?" But the growing passion and urgency of her voice seemed to shut Karen more closely in upon herself rather than sweep her into impulsive confidence. There was a hot exasperation in Madame von Marwitz's eye as it studied the averted, stubborn head. "No," was the reply she received. "No, no, indeed. It was not the truth that he said to you and you know that it was not the truth. Oh, I make no accusation against your husband; he believed it the truth; but you cannot believe that I would rest satisfied with what must make you unhappy. And how can you be happy if your husband does not care for me? How can you be happy if he feels repugnance for me? You cannot be. Is it not so? Or am I wrong?" "No," Karen again repeated. "Then," said Madame von Marwitz, and a sob now lifted her voice, "then do not let him put it upon me. Not that! Oh promise me, my Karen! For that would be the end." Karen turned to her suddenly, and passed her arms around her. "Tante--Tante," she said; "what are you saying? The end? There could not be an end for us! Do not speak so. Do not. Do not." She was trembling. "Ah--could there not! Could there not!" With the words Madame von Marwitz broke into violent sobs. "Has it not been my doom, always--always to have what I love taken from me! You love this man who hates me! You defend him! He will part you from me! I foresee it! From the first it has been my dread!"