And then it seemed to him that they might have joys which should make
life worth living. Their existence might be a work of art, beautiful and
hidden. They would think, comprehend, and feel together. It would be a
marvellous world of emotions and ideas.

"We could make of life a delightful garden."

She feigned to think that the dream was innocent.

"You know very well that I am susceptible to the charm of your mind.
It has become a necessity to see you and hear you. I have allowed this
to be only too plain to you. Count upon my friendship and do not torment
yourself." She extended her hand to him. He did not take it, but
replied, brusquely:

"I do not desire your friendship. I will not have it. I must have you
entirely or never see you again. You know that very well. Why do you
extend your hand to me with derisive phrases? Whether you wished it or
not, you have made me desperately in love with you. You have become my
evil, my suffering, my torture, and you ask me to be an agreeable friend.
Now you are coquettish and cruel. If you can not love me, let me go;
I will go, I do not know where, to forget and hate you. For I have
against you a latent feeling of hatred and anger. Oh, I love you, I love
you!"

She believed what he was saying, feared that he might go, and feared the
sadness of living without him. She replied:

"I found you in my path. I do not wish to lose you. No, I do not wish