man she wanted for the moment. Forests could not hide him,--caves
could not cover him if she made up her mind to find him. I had hoped
she would not find ME--but she has--however,--you say she has gone--
"

The colour had fled from Manella's face,--she was pale and rigid.

"She will come back," she said stiffly.

"I hope not!" And he threw himself carelessly down on the turf to
rest--"Come and sit beside me here and tell me what she said to
you!"

But Manella was silent. Her dark, passionate eyes rested upon him
with a world of scorn and sorrow in their glowing depths.

"Come!" he repeated--"Don't stare at me as if I were some new sort
of reptile!"

"I think you are!" she said, coldly--"You seem to be a man, but you
have not the feelings of a man!"

"Oh, have I not!" and he gave a light gesture of indifference--"I
have the feelings of a modern man,--the 'Kultur' of a perfect super-
German! Yes, that is so! Sentiment is the mere fly-trap of
sensuality--the feeler thrust out to scent the prey, but once the
fly is caught, the trap closes. Do you understand? No, of course you
don't! You are a dreadfully primitive woman!"

"I did not think you were German," she said.