"Why is it so disagreeable to him to hear that woman talked of?" Thea said to herself. It was tolerably late when the two officers took their leave, but Thea was not at all tired, and while Bernhard accompanied them down into the hall, she fetched a large photograph book, in which were the photographs of all the landed proprietors of the neighbourhood, with their wives, and when Bernhard returned he found her lost in contemplation of Frau von Wronsky's face. "I am glad they are gone, Thea," he cried, more quickly and merrily than was his wont to speak, "for now I can thank you as I should for reading all those books for my sake. I know you did it all for love of me, my darling." He drew her tenderly towards him; but although his words would have made her perfectly happy a few hours before, she now returned his kiss rather coldly, and said,-- "Good heavens, it was not much to do; it really interested me very much, and papa explained everything to me that I did not understand. But," she added, without explaining the strange sequence of ideas, otherwise than by pushing forward the book of photographs,--"tell me, Bernhard, did you not know the Wronsky at Trouville?" "What put that into your head?" asked Bernhard, thrusting the book aside. "I told you before----" "You spoke of _many_ people, Bernhard, but you did not say that you did not know _her_." Now Bernhard smiled. "Oh, you women!" he exclaimed, drawing his wife towards him. "Well, since you are developing such a talent for diplomacy, you may learn that I certainly did have a distant acquaintance with her, but that she belonged to a circle that makes it very desirable that I should ignore all former acquaintance with her whatsoever. Yes, I owe it to Marzell Wronsky to preserve entire silence with regard to that time, and all I can tell you is that she did not so conduct herself as to lead me to regard her as a fit associate for you." "Why, what did she do?" "She was very imprudent, my child. But pray let us drop this subject; we neither of us care anything about her, and I have told you what I have because I know you are no gossip and would rather help me to keep the secret of my former acquaintance with her than prevent me from doing so. You now know that my only reason for silence as to my ever having seen her before is a reluctance, for her husband's sake, to being questioned with regard to her former life." "Yes, Bernhard, but----" Thea hesitated, and hid her face in her hands, although Bernhard could see her forehead and neck flush crimson. "But? What is it that you want to know?" "Bernhard," she whispered, still covering her face, "tell me truly and really, were you never in love with her?" "Never!" he exclaimed, drawing down her hands. "Look in my eyes, Thea, while I tell you that I never cared for this woman, and never had any association with her whatever." "Thank God!" she whispered, drawing a long breath of relief. CHAPTER XII.