No," was the reply she received.

"No, no, indeed. It was not the truth that he said to you and you know
that it was not the truth. Oh, I make no accusation against your
husband; he believed it the truth; but you cannot believe that I would
rest satisfied with what must make you unhappy. And how can you be happy
if your husband does not care for me? How can you be happy if he feels
repugnance for me? You cannot be. Is it not so? Or am I wrong?"

"No," Karen again repeated.

"Then," said Madame von Marwitz, and a sob now lifted her voice, "then
do not let him put it upon me. Not that! Oh promise me, my Karen! For
that would be the end."

Karen turned to her suddenly, and passed her arms around her.
"Tante--Tante," she said; "what are you saying? The end? There could not
be an end for us! Do not speak so. Do not. Do not." She was trembling.

"Ah--could there not! Could there not!" With the words Madame von
Marwitz broke into violent sobs. "Has it not been my doom,
always--always to have what I love taken from me! You love this man who
hates me! You defend him! He will part you from me! I foresee it! From
the first it has been my dread!"

"No one can ever part us, Tante. No one. Ever." Karen whispered, holding
her tightly, and her face, bending above the sobbing woman, was suddenly
old and stricken in its tormented and almost maternal love. "Tante;
remember your own words. You gave me courage. Will you not be patient?
For my sake? Be patient, Tante. Be patient. He does not know you yet."

CHAPTER XXIV

Gregory heard no word of the revealing talk; yet, when he and Karen were
alone, he was aware of a new chill, or a new discretion, in the
atmosphere. It was as if a veil of ice, invisible yet impassable, hung
between them, and he could only infer that she had something to hide, he
could only suspect, with a bitterer resentment, that Madame von Marwitz
had been more directly exerting her pressure.

The pressure, whatever it had been, had the effect of making Karen, when
they were all three confronted, more calm, more mildly cheerful than
before, more than ever the fond wife who did not even suspect that a
flaw might be imagined in her happiness.

Gregory had an idea--his only comfort in this sorry maze where he found
himself so involved--that this attitude of Karen's, combined with his
own undeviating consideration, had a disconcerting effect upon Madame
von Marwitz and at moments induced her to show her wea