“Yes, I am guilty,” I said, “but haven’t I suffered because of it? Let us put an end now to the cruel game.” “That is my wish, too,” she replied with a curious deceitful look. “Wanda!” I exclaimed violently, “don’t drive me to extremes; you see that I am a man again.” “A fire of straw,” she replied, “which makes a lot of stir for a moment, and goes out as quickly as it flared up. You imagine you can intimidate me, and you only make yourself ridiculous. Had you been the man I first thought you were, serious, reserved, stern, I would have loved you faithfully, and become your wife. Woman demands that she can look up to a man, but one like you who voluntarily places his neck under her foot, she uses as a welcome plaything, only to toss it aside when she is tired of it.” “Try to toss me aside,” I said, jeeringly. “Some toys are dangerous.” “Don’t challenge me,” exclaimed Wanda. Her eyes began to flash, and a flush entered her cheeks. “If you won’t be mine now,” I continued, with a voice stifled with rage, “no one else shall possess you either.” “What play is this from?” she mocked, seizing me by the breast. She was pale with anger at this moment. “Don’t challenge me,” she continued, “I am not cruel, but I don’t know whether I may not become so and whether then there will be any bounds.” “What worse can you do, than to make your lover, your husband?” I exclaimed, more and more enraged. “I might make you _his_ slave,” she replied quickly, “are you not in my power? Haven’t I the agreement? But, of course, you will merely take pleasure in it, if I have you bound, and say to him. “Do with him what you please.” “Woman, are you mad!” I cried. “I am entirely rational,” she said, calmly. “I warn you for the last time. Don’t offer any resistance, one who has gone as far as I have gone might easily go still further. I feel a sort of hatred for you, and would find a real joy in seeing him beat you to death; I am still restraining myself, but—” Scarcely master of myself any longer, I seized her by the wrist and forced her to the ground, so that she lay on her knees before me. “Severin!” she cried. Rage and terror were painted on her face. “I shall kill you if you marry him,” I threatened; the words came hoarsely and dully from my breast. “You are mine, I won’t let you go, I love you too much.” Then I clutched her and pressed her close to me; my right hand involuntarily seized the dagger which I still had in my belt. Wanda fixed a large, calm, incomprehensible look on me. “I like you that way,” she said, carelessly. “Now you are a man, and at this moment I know I still love you.” “Wanda,” I wept with rapture, and bent down over her, covering her dear face with kisses, and she, suddenly breaking into a loud gay laugh, said, “Have you finished with your ideal now, are you satisfied with me?” “You mean?” I stammered, “that you weren’t serious?”