"No, I won't stop; here have I been condemned to look on at you lavishing love on people who don't want it, don't like it, are wearied by it--who don't know how precious it is, how priceless it is, and how I am hungering and thirsting--oh, starving, starving, for one drop of it----" His voice shook, and he fell once more to covering her hands with kisses that seemed to scorch her soul. This was very dreadful. Her soul had never been scorched before. Something must be done to stop him. She could not stand there with her eyes shut and her hands being kissed for ever. "_Please_ let me go," she entreated faintly; and in her helplessness began to cry. He instantly released her, and she stood before him crying. What a horrible thing it was to lose her friend, to be forced to hurt him. "I never dreamt that you--that you----" she wept. "What, that I loved you?" he asked incredulously; but more gently, subdued by her deep distress. His face grew very hopeless. She was crying because she was sorry for him. "I don't know--I think I did dream that--lately--once or twice--but I never dreamt that it was so bad--that you were such a--such a--such a volcano. Oh, Axel, why are you a volcano?" she cried, looking up at him, the tears rolling down her cheeks. "Why have you spoilt everything? It was so nice before. We were such friends. And now--how can I be friends with a volcano?" "Anna, if you make fun of me----" "Oh no, no--as though I would--as though I could do anything so unutterable. But don't let us be tragic. Oh, don't let us be tragic. You know my plans--you know my plans inside out, from beginning to end--how can I, how _can_ I marry anybody?" "Good God, those women--those women who are not happy, who have spoilt your happiness, they are to spoil mine now--ours, Anna?" He seized her arm as though he would wake her at all costs from a fatal sleep. "Do you mean to say that if it were not for those women you would be my wife?" "Oh, if only you wouldn't be tragic----" "Do you mean to say that is the reason?" "Oh, isn't it sufficient----" "No. If you cared for me it would be no reason at all." She cried bitterly. "But I don't," she sobbed. "Not like that--not in that way. It is atrocious of me not to--I know how good you are, how kind, how--how everything. And still I don't. I don't know why I don't, but I don't. Oh, Axel, I am so sorry--don't look so wretched--I can't bear it." "But what can it matter to you how I look if you don't care about me?" "Oh, oh," sobbed Anna, wringing her hands. He caught hold of her wrist. "See here, Anna. Look at me." But she would not look at him. "Look at me. I don't believe you know your own mind. I want to see into your eyes. They were always honest--look at me." But she would not look at him. "Surely you will do that--only that--for me." "There isn't anything to see," she wept, "there really isn't. It is dreadful of me, but I can't help it." "Well, but look at me."