Now--now when she had just found him again after being worn out with
pining and longing-to part now, to see him rush on an uncertain fate--it
would kill her, it would certainly be her death! And when he still had
tried to resist she had rushed into his arms, had stopped his lips with
burning kisses, and whispered in his ear all the flattering words of love
he once had held so dear.

Why had he never seriously tried to win her, why had he so soon forgotten
her? Because she, who could assert her dignity firmly enough with
others, had abandoned herself to him unresistingly after a few meetings,
as if befooled by some magician's spell. The precious spoil so easily
won had soon lost its value in his eyes. But to-day the fire which had
died out blazed up again. Yes, this was the love he craved, he must
have! To be loved with entire and utter devotion, with a heart that
thought only of him and not of itself, that asked only for love in return
for love, that did not fence itself round with caution and invoke the aid
of others for protection against him. This lovely creature, all passion,
who had taken upon herself to endure the contumely of society, and pain
and grief for his sake, knowing too that he had abandoned her, and would
never make her his wife before God and men--she indeed knew what it was
to love; and he who was so often inclined to despair of himself felt his
heart uplifted at the thought that he was so precious in her eyes, nay--
he would own it--so idolized.

And how sweet, how purely womanly she was! Those imploring eyes--
which he had grown quite sick of in Constantinople, for they were as
full of pathetic entreaty when she merely begged him to hold her cloak
for her as when she appealed to his heart of hearts not to leave her--
that entrancing play of glances which had first bewitched him, came to
him to-day as something new and worked the old spell.