Carlotta!'

He spoke my name slowly and distinctly, savouring it.

'Yes,' I answered softly and obediently.

'Carlotta! Listen! Our two lives are in our hands at this moment--this
moment while we talk here.'

His rapt eyes had not stirred from the fire.

'I feel it,' I said.

'What are we to do? What shall we decide to do?'

He slowly turned towards me. I lowered my glance.

'I don't know,' I said.

'Yes, you do, Carlotta,' he insisted. 'You do know.'

His voice trembled.

'Mary and I are such good friends,' I said. 'That is what makes it
so--'

'No, no, no!' he objected loudly. His nervousness had suddenly increased.
'Don't, for God's sake, begin to argue in that way! You are above
feminine logic. Mary is your friend. Good. You respect her; she respects
you. Good. Is that any reason why our lives should be ruined? Will that
benefit Mary? Do I not tell you that everything has ceased between us?'

'The idea of being false to Mary--'

'There's no question of being false. And if there was, would you be false
to love rather than to friendship? Between you and me there is love;
between Mary and me there is not love. It isn't her fault, nor mine,
least of all yours. It is the fault of the secret essence of existence.
Have you not yourself written that the only sacred thing is instinct? Are
we, or are we not, to be true to ourselves?'

'You see,' I said, 'your wife is so sentimental. She would be incapable
of looking at the affair as--as we do; as I should in her place.'

I knew that my protests were insincere, and that all my heart and brain
were with him, but I could not admit this frankly. Ah! And I knew also
that the sole avenue to peace and serenity, not to happiness, was the
path of renunciation and of obedience to the conventions of society, and
that this was precisely the path which we should never take. And on the
horizon of our joy I saw a dark cloud. It had always been there, but I
had refused to see it. I looked at it now steadily.

'Of course,' he groaned, 'if we are to be governed by Mary's
sentimentality--'

'Dear love,' I whispered, 'what do you want me to do?'

'The only possible, honest, just thing. I want you to go away with me, so
that Mary can get a divorce.'

He spoke sternly, as it were relentlessly.

'Does she guess--about me?' I asked, biting my lip, and looking
away from him.

'Not yet. Hasn't the slightest notion, I'm sure. But I'll tell her,
straight and fair.'

'Deare