she was really jealous."

"God--how could you stand it?" said Herkimer, violently.

"To be frank, the more she outraged me as an artist, the more she
pleased me as a man. To be loved so absolutely, especially if you are
sensitive to such things, has an intoxication of its own, yes, she
fascinated me more and more."

"Extraordinary."

"One day I tried to make her understand that I had need to be alone. She
listened to me solemnly, with only a little quiver of her lips, and let
me go. When I returned, I found her eyes swollen with weeping and her
heart bursting."

"And you took her in your arms and promised never to send her away
again."

"Naturally. Then I began to go out into society to please her. Next
something very interesting came up, and I neglected my studio for a
morning. The same thing happened again and again. I had a period of wild
revolt, of bitter anger, in which I resolved to be firm, to insist on my
privacy, to make the fight."

"And you never did?"

"When her arms were about me, when I saw her eyes, full of adoration and
passion, raised to my own, I forgot all my irritation in my happiness as
a man. I said to myself, 'Life is short; it is better to be loved than