ould it be
possible that a man should wish to take a woman to his bosom who had
told him to his face that he was loathed? "Peter," she said, "I am
sure that you don't think that I love you."

"I don't see why you shouldn't, Linda."

"I do not;--not the least; I can promise you that. And I never
shall;--never. Think what it would be to have a wife who doesn't love
you a bit. Would not that be bad?"

"Oh, but you will."

"Never! Don't you know that I love somebody else very dearly?"
On hearing this there came something of darkness upon Peter's
brow,--something which indicated that he had been touched. Linda
understood it all. "But I will never speak to him again, never see
him, if you will let me alone."

"See him, Linda! He is in prison, and will be sent to the quarries to
work. He will never be a free man again. Ha! ha! I need not fear him,
my dear."

"But you shall fear me. Yes; I will lead you such a life! Peter
Steinmarc, I will make you rue the day you first saw me. You shall
wish that you were at the quarries yourself. I will disgrace you, and
make your name infamous. I will waste everything that you have. There
is nothing so bad I will not do to punish you. Yes; you may look at
me, but I will. Do you think that you are to trample me under foot,
and that I will not have my revenge? You said it was a foolish
business that I did. I will make it worse than foolish." He stood
with his hands in the pockets of his broad flaps, looking at her, not
knowing how to answer her. He was no coward,--not such a coward as
to be intimidated at the moment by the girl's violence. And being
now thoroughly angry, her words had not worked upon him as she had
intended that they should work. His desire was to conquer her and get
the best of her; but his thoughts worked slowly, and he did not know
how to answer her. "Well, what do you say to me? If you will let me
escape, I will always be your friend."

"I will not let you escape," he said.

"And you expect that I shall be your wife?"

"I do expect it."

"I shall die first; yes;--die first. To be your wife! Oh, there is
not a beggar in the streets of Nuremberg whom I would not sooner
take for my husband." She paused, but again he was at a loss for
words. "Come, Peter, think of it. Do not drive a poor weak girl to
desperation. I have been very unhappy,--very; you do not know how
unhappy I have been. Do not make it worse for me." Then the chord
which had been strung so tightly