“What shall I do with you?” she began anew. “Whatever you wish,” I replied with resignation, “whatever will give you pleasure.” “How illogical!” she cried, “first you want to make me your wife, and then you offer yourself to me as something to toy with.” “Wanda—I love you.” “Now we are back to the place where we started. You love me, and want to make me your wife, but I don’t want to enter into a new marriage, because I doubt the permanence of both my and your feelings.” “But if I am willing to take the risk with you?” I replied. “But it also depends on whether I am willing to risk it with you,” she said quietly. “I can easily imagine belonging to one man for my entire life, but he would have to be a whole man, a man who would dominate me, who would subjugate me by his inate strength, do you understand? And every man—I know this very well—as soon as he falls in love becomes weak, pliable, ridiculous. He puts himself into the woman’s hands, kneels down before her. The only man whom I could love permanently would be he before whom I should have to kneel. I’ve gotten to like you so much, however, that I’ll try it with you.” I fell down at her feet. “For heaven’s sake, here you are kneeling already,” she said mockingly. “You are making a good beginning.” When I had risen again she continued, “I will give you a year’s time to win me, to convince me that we are suited to each other, that we might live together. If you succeed, I will become your wife, and a wife, Severin, who will conscientiously and strictly perform all her duties. During this year we will live as though we were married—” My blood rose to my head. In her eyes too there was a sudden flame— “We will live together,” she continued, “share our daily life, so that we may find out whether we are really fitted for each other. _I grant you all the rights of a husband, of a lover, of a friend._ Are you satisfied?” “I suppose, I’ll have to be?” “You don’t have to.” “Well then, I want to—” “Splendid. That is how a man speaks. Here is my hand.” * * * * * For ten days I have been with her every hour, except at night. All the time I was allowed to look into her eyes, hold her hands, listen to what she said, accompany her wherever she went. My love seems to me like a deep, bottomless abyss, into which I subside deeper and deeper. There is nothing now which could save me from it. This afternoon we were resting on the meadow at the foot of the Venus-statue. I plucked flowers and tossed them into her lap; she wound them into wreaths with which we adorned our goddess. Suddenly Wanda looked at me so strangely that my senses became confused and passion swept over my head like a conflagration. Losing command over myself, I threw my arms about her and clung to her lips, and she—she drew me close to her heaving breast. “Are you angry?” I then asked her. “I am never angry at anything that is natural—” she replied, “but _I_ am afraid you suffer.”