"Melitta," he answered, so seriously as to be almost solemn; "it is not right to awaken the desire to live, in a man who is sick unto death. Do not spoil me, from pure pity, with a kindness which does not come from the heart!" "Not from the heart!" repeated Melitta in a low voice. "To be sure I have deserved that reproach; I ought not to complain." "I did not mean to reproach you, Melitta." "And yet I deserve it. Yes, Oldenburg, I must tell you, or it will oppress my heart beyond endurance. I feel deeply ashamed before you. The burden of gratitude which you impose upon me weighs me down." "A burden, Melitta! A burden! By God, I did not wish to lay any burden upon you by the few services I have been able to render you." "You will not believe me. I cannot measure and weigh my words as you do. If there is no voice in your heart speaking for me--if you are not willing to listen to me with your heart, then----" Her voice was drowned in tears. "What is this?" said Oldenburg, seizing his head with both his hands. "Am I dreaming? Is this my head? Are these my hands? Am I Oldenburg? Are you Melitta? You, who are shedding tears, because I, Oldenburg, do not understand you, or will not understand you?" "You shall understand me," said Melitta, drying her tears, with an impetuosity very unusual in her. "You have seen me so often weak and irresolute in our intercourse, that you do not think me any longer capable of forming a resolution. And yet I have the strength to do so; and that I have it, I owe to you, Adalbert. During the sickness of my child you have spoken to me, and I have not closed my heart to your voice. I have heard it very distinctly during the long, anxious night hours which I spent watching and weeping by the bedside of my child. Then I have asked my child's pardon with silent, burning tears, that I could ever forget being a mother. Then I have vowed to myself that I would never, never forget it again. Then I have----" She was silent; burning shame flooded her cheeks with deep glowing blushes; but she made a great effort and said, "Then I have abjured a passion which humiliates me in my own eyes, in my child's eyes, and, Adalbert, in yours." "Stop, Melitta! stop!" cried Oldenburg, rising suddenly. "You are beside yourself! You are not alone! You are in the presence of another person--of a man who loves you, Melitta. He does not want to hear what you ought to say to no one but to yourself."