"You see, at that time--I must confess it to you--at that time my love for you was not yet plucked out of my heart, and as--you see, it was impossible that we should come together after Rhaden's death----" "Why was it impossible?" he broke in. "Did I not, on the night of the duel, go down on my knees, and conjure you to fly with me? Why shouldn't we have begun a new life together over in America, or some other part of the world, if our love was serious? I had resolved to sacrifice all for you--but you. Well, all that is over. Let us not refer to it again. As it was impossible that we could come together, you were saying?" "So I wanted at least one thing," she confessed. "Don't look at me, please. I wanted at least to be near you." He could scarcely grasp what he heard. It was so horrible, "As Ulrich's wife?" he stammered. "Felicitas, think what you are saying." She shook her head, smiling. "I didn't mean that," she whispered. "Don't think so badly of me. All I wanted was sometimes to see you, to hear your voice, to refresh my ears with your old laugh. For don't forget, _then_ I still loved you. If I sinned, it was out of love for you. Reproach me for it if you can." He could not. His sister had been right, it was not easy to play the judge when one was a fellow-prisoner at the bar. "Let us leave that time out of the question," he said after a silence. "I have got my answer--and that is enough. But we have more before us. Now it is the present, not the past, that we are concerned with. Is it true, Felicitas, that you have a train of admirers hanging after you, and that you encourage them to make love to you in Ulrich's house?" "Yes," she replied, beginning her smile anew. "Is it true that they write you letters full of gallantries, and that you answer them in the same strain?" "Yes." "And in spite of all that--Felicitas?" "In spite of all that--Leo." He felt once more as if his fury would overmaster him. He was almost suffocated by it, and he had to put restraint on himself not to fly at her as she stood there, in her defenceless beauty, smiling up at him. "My God, speak!" he thundered. "You have questioned me, and I have answered. What more do you wish me to do?" "To justify yourself." "I can't justify myself. If you would like to kill me, do it; here I am at your mercy. My wretchedness is unspeakable; death would be joy in comparison." And still she smiled. If it was all hypocrisy she would cry, not smile, he reasoned. "But I'll tell you everything," she continued. "Confess to you as one criminal confesses to another, who is bound with him on the galleys. For so you are bound to me, Leo--in unexpiated sin--in guilt, and in tears." She stood before him with raised arms, like a perfect statue of the repenting Magdalene.