She still hoped that some day he would grow weary of pursuing
the blue will-o'-the-wisps of fleeting sham loves; he would at last long
to escape from the marsh into which for decades these capricious,
alluring, fleeting flames had deluded him, and would then unresistingly
allow himself to be led by her hand to the firm ground of a tried
affection, in order, even though not until the evening twilight of his
days, to rest with her, at last her own Robert, whom she need share with
no one.
When Linden, on this Tuesday, appeared at Frau von der Lehde's, she of
course instantly noticed his depression, and with her usual sympathy and
gentle tenderness, asked:
"Why are you so melancholy, Robert? What has happened?"
"Melancholy?" forcing himself to a wan smile. "I feel nothing of the
sort."
"Yes, Robert; do you suppose that I do not know the meaning of these
lines on the forehead and between the eyes?"
Oh, those lines! Surely he knew them, too, he had studied them this very
morning with painful attention, but why need she obtrude them upon him?
This was unkind, almost malicious.
Pages:
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174