"Well then, I want to--"

"Splendid. That is how a man speaks. Here is my hand."

* * * * *

For ten days I have been with her every hour, except at night. All
the time I was allowed to look into her eyes, hold her hands, listen
to what she said, accompany her wherever she went.

My love seems to me like a deep, bottomless abyss, into which I
subside deeper and deeper. There is nothing now which could save me
from it.

This afternoon we were resting on the meadow at the foot of the
Venus-statue. I plucked flowers and tossed them into her lap; she
wound them into wreaths with which we adorned our goddess.

Suddenly Wanda looked at me so strangely that my senses became
confused and passion swept over my head like a conflagration. Losing
command over myself, I threw my arms about her and clung to her lips,
and she--she drew me close to her heaving breast.

"Are you angry?" I then asked her.

"I am never angry at anything that is natural--" she replied, "but
_I_ am afraid you suffer."

"Oh, I am suffering frightfully."