Instead of replying I folded her in my arms; a deep inward, yet vaguely sad happiness filled my breast, my eyes grew moist, and a tear fell upon her hand. “How can you cry!” she exclaimed, “you are a child!” * * * * * On a pleasure drive we met the Russian prince in his carriage. He seemed to be unpleasantly surprised to see me by Wanda’s side, and looked as if he wanted to pierce her through and through with his electric gray eyes. She, however, did not seem to notice him. I felt at that moment like kneeling down before her and kissing her feet. She let her glance glide over him indifferently as though he were an inanimate object, a tree, for instance, and turned to me with her gracious smile. * * * * * When I said good-night to her to-day she seemed suddenly unaccountably distracted and moody. What was occupying her? “I am sorry you are going,” she said when I was already standing on the threshold. “It is entirely in your hands to shorten the hard period of my trial, to cease tormenting me—” I pleaded. “Do you imagine that this compulsion isn’t a torment for me, too,” Wanda interjected. “Then end it,” I exclaimed, embracing her, “be my wife.” “_Never, Severin_,” she said gently, but with great firmness. “What do you mean?” I was frightened in my innermost soul. “_You are not the man for me._” I looked at her, and slowly withdrew my arm which was still about her waist; then I left the room, and she—she did not call me back. * * * * * A sleepless night; I made countless decisions, only to toss them aside again. In the morning I wrote her a letter in which I declared our relationship dissolved. My hand trembled when I put on the seal, and I burned my fingers. As I went upstairs to hand it to the maid, my knees threatened to give way. The door opened, and Wanda thrust forth her head full of curling-papers. “I haven’t had my hair dressed yet,” she said, smiling. “What have you there?” “A letter—” “For me?” I nodded. “Ah, you want to break with me,” she exclaimed, mockingly. “Didn’t you tell me yesterday that I wasn’t the man for you?” _“I repeat it now!”_ “Very well, then.” My whole body was trembling, my voice failed me, and I handed her the letter. “Keep it,” she said, measuring me coldly. “You forget that is no longer a question as to whether you satisfy me as a man; as a _slave_ you will doubtless do well enough.” “Madame!” I exclaimed, aghast. “That is what you will call me in the future,” replied Wanda, throwing back her head with a movement of unutterable contempt. “Put your affairs in order within the next twenty-four hours. The day after to-morrow I shall start for Italy, and you will accompany me as my servant.” “Wanda—”